Torn
by The Lilac Elf of Lothlorien
Summary: Spoilers for season 6! While Bobby, Samuel, and Castiel try and help Sam find what's missing, Bobby sends Dean to a psychiatrist who specializes in burnt-out hunters to help him put the pieces of his broken life back together.
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I keep thinking that with all the crap Sam and Dean have been through, both of them could use some psychological help.

SPOILER ALERT: This story will contain stuff from the 6th season including 6.07 in later chapters.

STORY SUMMARY: While Bobby, Samuel, and Castiel help Sam with his problems, Bobby sends Dean to a psychiatrist who specializes in burnt-out hunters.

SUPERNATURAL: Torn

Chapter 1

* * *

"Hey, pal!"

Dean Winchester looked up from the beer he'd been nursing for the past hour to see the bartender looking at him with a mix of sympathy and regret. "Yeah?" he asked, not really eager to leave yet. There were probably some brain cells in his head still kicking and Dean wasn't in the mood for that tonight. Tonight was about getting drunk.

"Closing time, buddy. Sorry," the bartender replied as he walked up to Dean.

Dean didn't say anything as he dug money out of his pocket and tossed a couple bills onto the bar. After downing the rest of his beer he headed outside into the chilly fall Ohio weather.

After the whole mess with the goddess, Veritas, Dean had just left town. After dropping Sam off at a local ER, Dean just started walking. He didn't even go back for the Impala, just hopped a bus and rode as far as he could.

There was just too much in his head right now, Dean decided as he went to the motel room he was staying at. He wanted… He wasn't even sure what he wanted more at that moment. It was all so confused and tangled and nothing seemed to make sense anymore.

The past few days, Dean had kept pulling out his phone but when he started to dial Lisa's number, he always stopped. He needed her to help him keep his head straight, to provide the calm normalcy that balanced his harsh, violent life as a hunter. But she didn't want him around anymore. Even in his dreams—not that he'd been having many good dreams lately—Lisa would push him away after a tender memory.

Hearing his phone ring, Dean reluctantly looked at the caller ID before answering. Seeing the name 'Bobby' on the display, Dean paused for a second or two before answering. "Yeah?" he asked, expecting to hear the older man shouting at him. He wasn't disappointed.

"Son, if you're sitting alone in some motel watching porn and getting drunk," Bobby Singer's voice said, sounding both concerned and annoyed. "—I am going to come over there and kick your ass until you tell me just what the hell is going on!"

Dean sank onto the bed with a long sigh as he said, "Well, I _am_ at a motel. And honestly, I think I left drunk about an hour ago." Well, not quite, Dean thought to himself. He'd been pretty steady on his feet as he'd walked toward the motel.

"Damnit, Dean," Bobby said, sounding exasperated. "What's going on? Sam showed up yesterday in the Impala _alone_! And then he told me that _you_ were the one who kept hitting him till he was unconscious!"

"Is he okay?" Dean asked, wondering just how bad he'd hurt his brother. Sam had been pretty out of it on the way to the hospital.

"You broke his nose and cracked his cheekbone," Bobby replied, simply, as he seemed to calm down. "He's pretty sore but he's okay. Worried about you, though." When Dean didn't reply, Bobby went on. "You got a pen handy?"

Dean ran a hand over his face-every passing second seemed to make him feel 10 years older. "Bobby, I'm not in the mood for a job right now."

"It's not a job," Bobby assured him. "I just need you to do me a favor."

Although he was tempted to say 'still not in the mood', he refrained. Last thing he needed right now was Bobby jumping down his throat again for being an ingrate. "Okay, hang on," Dean muttered, grabbing a notepad and a pencil from the drawer of the nightstand. "Shoot."

"Friend of mine named Dallas Morgan," Bobby said, simply. "Lives in Colorado, just south of Boulder."

"Okay," Dean said as he wrote down the exact address, somewhat confused about why the older hunter was telling him this.

There was a pause and then Bobby added, "I'll wire you money for a rental car. Soon as you can, go see her."

"Why?" Dean asked, wearily. "Who is she?"

"A psychiatrist," Bobby replied.

At that, Dean let out an exasperated sigh. "Bobby, I'm—"

"If you say 'okay' so help me, God, I'll come down there and drag you there myself!" Bobby snapped, but the anger in his voice was mixed with concern. "You are so far from okay, Dean! Sam told me what's going on." After he'd calmed down, he sighed. "I'll help your brother. You just take care of you for a while, alright?"

Dean didn't like the situation but he had a feeling that Bobby wasn't going to drop the subject until he agreed. "Okay, Bobby. I'll go. I promise."

"I'll call that angel of yours to help me with Sam," the older hunter added after a moment.

Dean didn't protest and after he hung up, he wondered if maybe Bobby didn't have the right idea. Obviously, Dean was in trouble and maybe talking things out would help him get his head together. Figuring he'd try and get some sleep, he removed his wallet and gun and flopped down on the lumpy bed and closed his eyes, hoping tonight at least he'd be able to avoid dreams of Lisa.

* * *

_The Previous Day…_

When Bobby opened the door of his house, seeing Sam looking like he'd been worked over several times made him worry but what worried him more was the fact that Sam was alone and driving the Impala. "What happened?" Bobby had asked as he let Sam inside. Had Dean done this in an effort to get to the truth about his brother? Or had something happened to Dean that was unrelated to Sam's situation?

"I need help, Bobby," Sam had replied, simply, before telling Bobby what he'd said to Dean earlier.

Once Bobby ran through the usual salt/silver/holy water tests—using his own supplies this time—he hesitated before asking, "_Dean_ hit you?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, calmly. He hated that Dean had done it but it was too late for that now. "Bobby, I don't know what's wrong with me. I want to find out."

"I hear ya," Bobby replied, thinking. But as he ran down the list of what could be wrong with Sam, he kept coming up empty. "Okay, well, we know you're not a demon or a shifter." After a second, Bobby's expression turned grim. "Unless you're something we've never seen before."

"Great, Bobby. Thanks," Sam said, derisively. "Glad you're looking on the bright side."

"Oh, quit whining," Bobby snapped as Sam sat down on the couch in the living room. "Look, if it'll make you feel better we can lock you up down in the panic room."

"It's not necessary," Sam insisted. Just the idea of Bobby's salt-coated iron panic room brought up awful memories of detoxing from demon blood. But after a moment, he pulled his phone out and brought up his directory.

As Bobby went to get some of the newer books he'd started keeping around, he looked over at Sam who was calling someone on his cellphone. "Who're you callin'?"

"Samuel," Sam replied, looking away as he heard his grandfather pick up.

* * *

_Present Day_

When Dean pulled up to the old stone house, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. For that matter, he wondered if this shrink knew what was out there or if he'd have to spin a whole cover story off the top of his head. He really hoped that wasn't the case since he wasn't in the mood to lie like that right now. For a few minutes, he just sat in the rental car, wondering what Bobby would do if he just left and headed up to the salvage yard instead. But Bobby would probably just bring him back. "Screw it," Dean said as he got out of the car and headed up to the front door, knocking lightly.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected the shrink to look like, but for some reason Dean was still surprised when Dr. Dallas Morgan opened the door. She was about 45 years old, a redhead, and looked like she could probably hold her own in a fight—not exactly typical for a shrink. "Hey," Dean said, looking around as Dr. Morgan stepped aside to let him in.

"So you're Dean Winchester," she said with a smile as she looked him over. "You look tired. Coffee?"

"Yeah, sure," Dean replied, following the shrink down the hall and into a comfortable office. Once he had a cup of black coffee in his hands, he looked the doctor over before glancing around the room. There was weaponry all over and old tomes were piled up on the bookshelves. "Hunter?" he asked, looking back to Dr. Morgan.

"My husband was," Dr. Morgan replied with a slight shrug. Seeing Dean's sympathetic look, she smiled. "He retired. He's a trucker now. These past few years I've been learning the trade from what other hunters have told me during sessions." She sat down in one of the armchairs and gestured for Dean to sit down as well. "Honestly, I don't know how you people do it. All the demons and death… It's enough to drive anyone crazy."

"I hear that," Dean muttered. He remembered when he and Sam had gotten themselves into a mental hospital to help a fellow hunter. Lately he'd been thinking of checking in again. Hell, that was probably where he belonged right now. "Look, I-I'm not exactly good at the whole sharing my feelings thing, Doc, so…"

"How about we start with you calling me Dallas?" She said with a smile. When Dean nodded and took a long drink of his coffee, she continued. "Look, Bobby practically talked my ear off about you. What you've been through—your brother, your parents, your friends… You are _not_ the worst I've ever seen, Dean. And you're here so that means you _want _to help yourself. So… Let's start from the beginning. Tell me about your parents."

Dean leaned back in his chair and thought for a few moments. "Mom came from a long line of hunters. Dad started after she died when I was four. He wanted to hunt down the demon that killed Mom. He trained me and Sam to be hunters as well." That was all he meant to say but as he thought about everything his father put him and Sam through, he added, "There are still times I hate him for it. I hate that he put so much on Sam and me."

Dean tried to swallow back the tears that he'd been fighting for days but he just couldn't. Sniffing, he said, "We didn't deserve it. It was _his_ fight, _his_ obsession and he dragged us into it! He could never see what all those years did to Sam. What it did to me."

Dallas sighed and leaned forward. Deciding to change subjects for a while to let Dean calm down, she said, "Tell me about Sam."

Dean rolled his eyes as he tried not to completely break down. "First thing Dad ever told me was to watch out for Sam. It's been my whole life, just looking out for my brother." Sniffling again, he managed to regain a small amount of composure. "It's always been my job. Protect Sam; don't let anything happen to him… And right now just the idea that something's wrong with my brother just—"

Seeing that they were getting into current events, Dallas held up a hand to stop Dean. She wanted to know more about the history of the Winchester Brothers. "Start from the beginning," she instructed.

Dean nodded and let out a long breath before starting over. "Mom died when Sam was six months old. I was four. Dad handed Sam to me and told me to take him outside. Dad made it out of the house just before the fire consumed everything." It was his first memory and despite all the horrible things he'd seen after that—even including Hell—it was still the most vivid memory he had. "We stayed with some of Dad's old Marine buddies for the next week," Dean went on, continuing the story. "Then Dad became obsessed with finding what killed Mom."

"And while he was hunting this demon," Dallas said, following along with the tale. "—your father kept telling you to watch out for your brother."

Dean nodded. "I never thought of it back then, but… Sometimes I wonder if Dad knew that the demon would be going after Sam later on."

"What do you mean?" Dallas asked, curious.

Dean took a moment to finish his coffee before going on. "That night—when Sam was a baby—the demon bled into Sam's mouth. Basically, the son of a bitch made Sam into a… a part-demon… freak." But that wasn't how he really felt about Sam. Afraid he was giving the wrong impression, Dean added, "But you know, it doesn't matter what kind of crazy crap Sammy gets into, I'll be there. Because for better or worse, he's my brother. And he's just about all the family I have left."


	2. Chapter 2

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I like the idea of Sam and Dean's grandfather coming back from the dead but I'm not such a big fan of his secretiveness. So in this story, Samuel won't exactly be as harsh and he'll be much more concerned about his grandsons.

As far as Dean's psychotherapy sessions, any particular issues I should address? I have a list but I'm wondering if there's something in particular I could focus on.

Chapter 2

* * *

Sam tried to feel fear as he sat in Bobby's kitchen, tied to a chair, looking up at Bobby and the angel, Castiel. There was mild apprehension, sure… But fear? It just wasn't there. Not even when Castiel had him bite down on one of Bobby's old, leather belts before reaching into him, feeling into his very core. But as Castiel withdrew, Sam did feel the slightest sense of relief. He could still feel pain, and that was something at least.

And he could feel just the slightest touch of fear as Castiel turned to Bobby and said, "His soul. It isn't there."

Bobby was very still as he looked at the angel and after a moment, he said, "What do you mean 'his soul isn't there'?"

Castiel looked just the slightest bit unnerved as he glanced at Sam. "I'm saying that Sam's soul is not in his body."

"Well, thank you, Captain Obvious," Bobby snapped, sarcastically. "What do we do about it?"

Castiel looked at Sam who looked nervous. "You have no idea who pulled you out of the cage?" the angel asked, hoping for some clue, no matter how small.

"I remember waking up in a field," Sam replied, shrugging. "That's it." Looking at the ropes holding him to the chair, he asked, "Look, is this really necessary?"

Bobby looked from Sam to Castiel and frowned. "What do you think?"

Castiel considered the situation for a while and finally looked at Bobby. "You can untie him."

Bobby started towards Sam but when the doorbell rang, he stopped. "Hang on. I'll go see who it is."

Watching Bobby walking away without undoing the ropes, Sam looked surprised. "Wait, you're just going to leave me here?" Looking up at Castiel, he asked, "Cass, do you think you could, uh…?" He tried to crinkle his nose but the action hurt like hell.

"Of course, Sam," Castiel replied as he reached out a hand and touched Sam's face, healing the injuries.

Sam scrunched his face a little as he said, "Actually, I was wondering if you'd scratch my nose. But thanks."

Castiel gave Sam the slightest smile as he said, "You're welcome." Hearing Bobby talking to someone, he turned to see the other man re-enter the room with Sam and Dean's grandfather, Samuel Campbell. After watching the other hunter for a moment, Castiel rolled up his right sleeve as he asked, "Would you mind?"

"Mind what?" Samuel asked, frowning. But before he got a response, the trenchcoat-wearing angel had plunged a hand into him and although Samuel was no stranger to pain, this was a thousand times worse than anything he'd ever felt before and he screamed as he felt the angel groping inside him. When Castiel withdrew, Samuel fixed him with a sharp glare. "Mind telling what the HELL that was about?"

Castiel turned to Bobby and Sam and reported, "His soul is intact."

"What?" Samuel asked, breathlessly. Damn, it felt like he'd had a heart attack. "Of course, I have a…" But when he saw Castiel look over a Sam who was still tied to the chair, he straightened up. "What's going on, Sam?" Looking at Bobby, he asked, "Why's he tied up?"

"When Sam was yanked out of Hell," Bobby explained as he went to his fridge and pulled out a couple of beers. "—whatever it was left his soul behind."

"Okay, well, where's Dean?" Samuel asked, wondering what was going on. Had Sam become dangerous and done something to Dean?

"Dean's got his own problems," Bobby replied, handing Samuel a beer before opening his own. "I sent him to a friend of mine who might be able to help so unless we absolutely have to, we're leaving Dean out of this. Indicating himself, Castiel, and Samuel, he went on. "So the three of us are going to be handling this one." Seeing Samuel about to say something, Bobby added, "And before you even ask, we're not going anywhere. Just a safety precaution. Sure you understand."

"No- yeah," Samuel replied, nodding. Although he wondered why Bobby was insisting they stayed here, he understood staying where you felt most comfortable. "I get it."

"Okay, then," Bobby agreed. "First things first." Looking at Sam and Samuel, he said, "I want the two of you to tell me _everything_ that happened as soon as you popped back up again."

* * *

After the first long day of talking, Dallas had offered her guest room to Dean for the night. The next morning, she waited until she heard him moving around upstairs before starting breakfast. As she cooked, she thought about her first session with Dean Winchester.

The boy had demons—nasty ones. The day before, he'd talked all about his brother—growing up on the road, living out of motel rooms, always changing schools. Then Sam left for Stanford while Dean continued hunting. Later, Dean found Sam again, bringing him back into the hunter life as the two went looking for their father.

But Dallas had noticed that Dean spoke about his father as little as possible. And even when he did, there was such deep pain there that Dallas has had to bring the conversation back to Sam. But in order to help Dean, she had to get him talking about John Winchester.

xx

Coming down the stairs, Dean smelled French toast and coffee. Going into the kitchen, he saw Dallas plating up food and helped himself to the coffee pot on the counter. "Never had a shrink cook me breakfast before," he said, as Dallas handed him a plate along with butter and maple syrup. "Thanks," he added, settling himself on one of the stools next to the breakfast bar.

"When was your last relationship?" Dallas asked as she dug into her own plate.

Dean sighed as he slowly set his fork down, his appetite fading. "It, uh… it ended about a week ago. We were together for about a year."

Dallas took a moment to finish chewing before asking, "What was her name?"

"Lisa Braeden," Dean replied, drinking his coffee and wishing like hell he could pour a hefty shot of whiskey in the cup. "She's got an 11-year-old son, Ben."

"Yours?" Dallas asked, curious.

"No," Dean replied, simply. "If he was… I think she might have given me another chance."

"She broke up with you." It wasn't a question. When Dean didn't answer, Dallas prompted again. "Was it because you went back to hunting?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Dean snapped, his voice suddenly heavy with emotion. Standing up, he chugged down the rest of his coffee and checked that he had the rental car keys before heading for the door.

"Dean, where are you gonna go?" Dallas asked as she followed him outside. When Dean stopped, she pressed again. "You're a mess. And you might actually be the worst case I've ever seen. And you can take off and pretend that you're fine but you and I both know that you're not." Walking right up to Dean and putting a hand on his arm, she said, "Please. Talk to me. Let me help you."

"No one can help me," Dean said, quietly, tears running down his face. "Look, you… You don't know what I've been through."

"Then tell me," Dallas implored. "There are people worried about you. And Bobby… He's so afraid you're going to do something stupid, or… Or that you're going to do something to yourself."

"You have no idea what it's been like for me," Dean said again, his voice defensive. "You don't know how alone I feel. How every day I see people walking around and I want so bad to tell them what's really out there so maybe _they'll_ go out and hunt this crap and I can just walk away. I drink too much, I have nightmares… I can't even _remember_ the last time I actually slept soundly. You say you've seen worse than me? I doubt it. Because I will bet everything I've got that _none_ of those other hunters have ever been to Hell."

"Hell," Dallas repeated, her eyes wide. Bobby had told her that Dean had been killed by a hellhound but she hadn't imagined…

Dean felt like he was going to explode as his emotions ramped up again. "I was down there for forty years," he sobbed. "They did things to me, that… and what _I_ did… I swear to God I'm jealous of Sam. I wish so bad that I could have come out of Hell and not felt anything. Because the past couple years it's like all I can feel is pain. I can't remember the last time I felt genuinely happy."

"You weren't happy with Lisa?" Dallas asked, trying to think of a way to get Dean back inside.

"I-I don't know," Dean stammered, running a hand over his face. "I thought I was, but…"

"How about a drink?" Dallas suggested. As a psychiatrist, she rebelled against the idea of giving a patient alcohol. But this guy needed something right now.

"Trying to get me drunk so I'll spill my guts, doc?" Dean asked. As he leaned against the rental car, he let out a breath. He wanted to leave. He wanted to just leave every supernatural thing behind, go back to Lisa and beg her to take him back. She'd been right when she said that their year together hadn't been perfect. But for better or worse, Lisa had stuck by him, trying to comfort him when he had nightmares, looking the other way sometimes when he drank, helping him find a job…

But also, Dean wanted to be hunting with Sam. He wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. Driving around, saving people, eating in diners, arguing over music.

But Sam wasn't Sam right now and Dean hadn't felt like himself ever since he got back from Hell. Things couldn't just go back to how they were. And if Dean wanted things to return to anything resembling normal, he had to get his head in gear.

"Ready to come back in and talk?" Dallas asked, gently.

Dean shrugged but he followed her back inside and into the office where they'd talked last night. Once they were sitting down, Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Looking up at Dallas, he said, "For years now I've been trying to think about whose fault all this is. If it's God, or me… or Sam. But it's my dad's fault. Because when my mom died _he's_ the one who made the choice to become a hunter. He _chose_ to train me and Sammy to be hunters. He could have walked away but he didn't! And I hate him for it!"

Standing up and pacing the room, he went on. "More than 2 years ago, Sam and I found out that we're angelic vessels for the archangel, Michael, and the devil himself, Lucifer. And we had just about all of Heaven and Hell gunning for us." Stopping and turning to Dallas, he said, "And if Sam and I hadn't been hunters, we probably would've barely shown up as blips on the supernatural radar."

"Dean, did you ever tell your father you didn't want to be a hunter?" Dallas asked, giving Dean a look.

"I don't know," Dean admitted as he sat down again. "I don't know if Dad ever thought about what his choices did to Sam and me. And there've been a lot of times I wish I could have done what Sam did and just left."

"But why didn't you?" Dallas pressed. Dean seemed to be the type to always follow orders and at the same time, he went from the gut. "When Sam went to college, why didn't you go with him? You could have started having your own life."

"I tried," Dean admitted. "When Sam left I told Dad that I wanted to do my own thing. When he realized that I didn't mean hunting, he…" Dean trailed off, remembering what his father had said to him that night. _"Dean, I lost your mother, your grandparents, and now Sam. Now you're telling me you just want to walk away, too? Don't you even give a crap about finding what killed your mother?"_

"Did you care about finding the demon that killed your mom?" Dallas asked, curiously.

"Not as much as Dad did," Dean admitted. "I mean, killing the thing wouldn't bring her back."

Dallas nodded. She knew plenty of hunters who had gotten started because some evil thing killed someone they loved. "So then why did you keep doing it?"

Dean shrugged as he leaned back in the armchair. "You know, a lot of people have no idea what's out there. Someone has to do it."

"And a lot of other people do," Dallas countered. "Why _you_? I mean, there are dozens of other hunters out there. Why do you have to be one of them?"

In truth, Dean asked himself that very question constantly. "Because I know what's out there. I know all about stuff that can kill you. And as hard as it is dealing with this kind of crap day in and day out… I honestly don't think I could live with myself knowing that monsters are out there harming innocent people and I did nothing about it."


	3. Chapter 3

AUTHOR'S NOTES: If anyone's wondering about Crowley, he'll be popping up next chapter along with Castiel.

Chapter 3

* * *

While patience was sometimes a hunter's best weapon, Samuel felt uneasy just sitting around Bobby Singer's house while they tried to find a way to get Sam's soul back. Rubbing the back of his neck to relieve the knot there, Samuel thought about the past year as he'd been hunting with his grandson. It had taken Samuel a long time to see that something was off about Sam.

Dean had known right away that something was wrong.

Did Samuel really know so little about his own grandkids that he hadn't been able to pick up that something was wrong? Were his instincts really that rusty?

"Hey," Bobby said, coming up behind Samuel and handing him a beer. "Look like you need this."

Samuel took the beer and sighed. "Where's Sam?"

Bobby nodded towards the basement stairs. "Down in the panic room, doing research."

Samuel raised an eyebrow as he gave Bobby an impressed look. "You've got a panic room?"

Bobby nodded before taking a swig of his own beer. "Solid iron walls coated in salt. Fully stocked." Catching Samuel's look, Bobby sighed. "I had a weekend off."

"No, I'm—I'm impressed, really," Samuel insisted, sitting at the kitchen table. "You really know your stuff."

"You thought I didn't?" Bobby asked, going slightly on the defensive.

"No, I could tell you knew what you were doing," Samuel replied as Bobby sat down as well. "Although leaving Dean out of—"

"I'm happy you were keeping an eye on Sam," Bobby interrupted as he fixed Samuel with a steely-eyed stare. "But you don't know these boys."

"I've been hunting with Sam for a year," Samuel protested, defensively. "He and Dean are my grandsons. I think I know—"

"You don't know jack from squat about those two!" Bobby snapped. When the older man glared at him, Bobby went on. "I have known Sam and Dean since they were kids. I've done everything for those two. Those two holed up here for weeks after John died. I was there for Dean when he watched Sam get stabbed in the back. When Dean got out of Hell, I was the first person he went to. They went dream-walking in my head with no thought to their own safety to save my life. I've seen them at their best _and_ at their lowest."

Samuel nodded in understanding. "I get it. I do. But if things are going to get worse, don't you think Dean would want to be here to help his brother?"

Bobby had to admit that Samuel had a point. The problem was that the other man was right. Dean would want to help Sam with his problems just like Sam would do anything to help Dean. The two were so dependant on one another that it was hard—especially these days—to separate where Sam ended and Dean began. They were so emotionally tangled that it became one vicious spiral: Sam would be in trouble, Dean would make sacrifices to help his brother which would feed Sam's guilt which just added to the problems Dean had to solve.

"You know all these years Sam and Dean have been hunting together," Bobby began, finishing off his beer. "They've only had two constants in their lives: That Impala and each other. They live out of that car and they depend on each other for their very lives. Dean's got issues. Really, really bad issues. I mean, there are days I worry he's going to drink himself to death… or worse."

Samuel looked down at the table. He knew what Bobby was saying. Every once in a while he could see the haunted look in Dean's eyes and wonder just what dark, evil crap he was holding inside. Turning his gaze to Bobby, he asked, "You really think your shrink friend can help Dean work through this?"

Bobby considered the question for a moment and then replied, "If you're asking me if I think Dean's strong enough to work through this? Yeah, I do." But as he leaned back in his chair, he added, "The question would be if Dean's going to be the same afterwards." Seeing that Samuel looked a bit puzzled, he sighed. "John's death hit Dean hard. But when Sam died 'bout a year later… I've seen Dean beat down before. But when Sam died in his arms… That's what broke Dean first."

"That's when Dean made the crossroads deal?" Samuel asked, finishing his own beer.

"Yeah," Bobby grumbled, the memory still stuck in his mind. Hearing that Dean had given up his soul and would be dead in a year. "I swear, I wanted to throttle him for it."

"You can't blame Dean, Bobby," Samuel protested. "Hell, when Sam told me about Deanna and Mary…" Seeing Bobby's look of horror and disbelief, Samuel shrugged. "I'm just saying the thought crossed my mind once or twice."

* * *

It was nearly noon when Dean got up that day. It seemed as though his lack of decent sleep had started catching up to him at last. And although his dreams were filled with the usual nightmarish visions of Hell, it was like watching it with the volume down. As he got dressed and headed into the bathroom of Dallas's guest room, Dean wondered how Sam was doing, if Bobby and Castiel had figured out what was wrong with him.

That was probably the biggest part of his problems, Dean figured as he went back into the guest room. His whole life revolved around Sam and he sacrificed everything for his brother. Dean wouldn't have even been in Hell if not for the deal to save Sam. And Sam would never have gotten tangled up with Ruby if he hadn't been so desperate for a way to get Dean out of the crossroads deal.

Sam was Dean's weakness and he was Sam's. If one of them had a problem, everything else went straight out the window, nothing else mattered.

Sam had been out on his own for almost a year, hunting, while Dean had been living the civilian life. Both of them had started moving in different directions but as soon as they'd joined up again, their lives went right back to being so deeply entangled.

Dean got it. He'd figured it out on the drive from Ohio. Bobby wanted Dean and Sam to have some time apart so that they could deal with their problems separately instead of everything getting all intertwined. And Lisa had been right when she'd said that he would never be happy as long as Sam was around.

Sinking back down onto the bed, Dean rubbed his face with one hand. He spent so much time worrying about his family that he never took time for himself, for what he needed.

Heading downstairs, he found Dallas in her office, looking at something on her computer and drinking a cup of coffee. When she looked up, she said, "Bobby emailed me. Wanted to know how you were doing."

"What'd you tell him?" Dean asked as he sat down after pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot on the desk. "That I'm a nutjob that's way too attached to his brother?"

Dallas leaned back in her chair and shook her head. "Dean, you need consistency. And you are not going to get that being a hunter. Ordinarily I'd say you need to get that from your family, but your family are hunters, too, so…" She paused a moment and then added, "Dean, you need to keep your distance from Sam for a while."

"Yeah, I know," Dean sighed, not thrilled about the idea. After a moment, he said, "You're right, though. I know I'm too dependant on Sam. I mean, I practically raised the kid, you know? Sam's my brother and in some ways he's the closest I ever had to having a best friend. He was the only person in my life I knew I could count on for anything."

"I'm not saying you should cut yourself off from your brother," Dallas interjected. "I'm saying each of you should have your own separate lives. And before you even ask, you're not going to be cured just because we talk for a couple days. Dean, if you want to get your life back together, you need to think long term."

"Yeah, and how do I do that?" Dean asked, his tone very slightly derisive. "My girlfriend kicked me out. And even if I somehow managed to get her to take me back, it'll never be the same between us."

"Dean, _nothing_ stays the same," Dallas replied, leaning forward. "You can't go back into an old life. You have to learn how to adapt, how to change to fit into something new."

While Dallas headed out to pick up take-out for lunch, Dean sat in her office and pulled out his phone. After a long hesitation, he pulled up his directory and dialed Lisa's number.

* * *

Lisa knew that Dean would try calling her. She'd been expecting it for a days now and when she saw his name on the caller ID, she was tempted to just let the call go to voicemail. But finally she picked up the phone. "Dean?"

"Lisa," Dean said, relief in his voice. "Hey."

"Hey," Lisa said, quietly as she sat on the bed. "Look, Dean, I meant what I said before. You have way too many problems for me to deal with. I care about you, Dean. I do." She closed her eyes, pray for a way to say what she needed to without hurting him. "But you scare me sometimes."

"Lisa, that night…" Dean seemed to be afraid to say something and Lisa stayed silent for a moment. "I was attacked by a vampire. It turned me and even though I knew I should stay away all I could think about was seeing you one last time in case I…"

Lisa's breath caught in her throat as the memory of Dean's late night visit played in her mind. Dean had been a monster? Her blood ran cold as she thought about what might have happened. "But… you're okay now… right?"

"Yeah," Dean replied, shakily. "And I shouldn't have been there that night, I knew that when I got there."

As a thousand nightmarish thoughts flashed through her brain, one thing came out clear in Lisa's heart. Dean hadn't been himself that night. He hadn't freaked out because of whatever issues he had. He'd been under the influence of something out of his control. But at the same time she knew that if Dean continued hunting monsters he'd still be in danger and could bring the danger into her home.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Dean said, "Look, Lis, you have every right to tell me it's over. But the year we had together, you and Ben became the one thing I could count on. Even after I went back to hunting with Sam, you're what I held on to. You and Ben are the only things that ever made me happy in a long time. And if I lose you… I'm asking for one more chance, Lisa. Please."

But as much as she wanted to, she couldn't just take Dean back. And what if he decided he had to start hunting again? But she missed him, as did Ben. "Dean… I need some time to think about this, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Dean replied, sounding dejected.

Afraid he was taking it as rejection, Lisa went on. "Hey, this isn't good-bye, alright? Let's just… take a break okay? We'll talk later."

"Okay," Dean agreed. But before Lisa could hang up, Dean stopped her. "Lisa."

"Yeah?" she asked, cautiously.

"I love you," Dean said before hanging up.

As Lisa turned her phone off, she wondered what life would be like with Dean home with her again.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER NOTES: In this chapter, Crowley turns up and Dean meets yet another heavenly body. (A/N: I had to do a little research on angels for this chapter.)

Next chapter, the Good Guys get one up over Crowley, Dean finally finds out what's going on with Sam, and we find out just what all Castiel got up to when he went on the bender in the episode '99 Problems'.

Remember to review if you like or I'll tell Crowley to keep Sam's soul. ;)

Chapter 4

* * *

"So how do I start changing things?" Dean asked the next morning at breakfast as he sat at Dallas's breakfast bar. The night before he'd been unable to sleep as all his thoughts seemed to hit him at once the moment he'd laid down in the guest room.

Handing Dean a cup of coffee, Dallas pondered the question. In fact, it had been something she'd thought about since their session yesterday. There were several things that Dean would have to do if he wanted to start building his own life. And the first thing would be the most difficult. "Dean, I know you're a hunter first and foremost," Dallas said as she finished cooking a placed a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast in front of Dean. "But you need to walk away for a while." Seeing him about to argue, she held up a hand to stop him. "Dean, this is… Think of this as drug rehab. You need to stay away from hunting. Not forever, but for a while."

Dean nodded, knowing Dallas was right but that didn't stop the twisting of his gut when he thought about it. How was he supposed to walk away when he knew what was really out there? But at the same time, he wondered how he was supposed to get better if he _didn't_ walk away. Dallas was right, of course. Hunting, Sam… they were like drugs he'd been hooked on for more than 20 years. Even before Sam had come back—when he was still living with Lisa—he'd wanted so badly to go back to hunting. He'd needed it because hunting was what gave his life purpose and meaning. And he didn't know who he was without it.

Finally picking up his fork and starting to eat, Dean asked, "So what else, Doc?"

Dallas gave a small shrug. "I can only tell you what I think you should do, Dean."

"Okay," Dean replied, going back to eating. After a while, however, he asked, "So, long term. Just tell me what your advice is."

Dallas finished her own breakfast and put the dishes in the sink before she leaned against the counter, making sure she had Dean's full attention before she started speaking. "First off, you need to be settled somewhere. And I mean like a permanent address. And you need to start realizing that the whole world does _not_ rest solely on _your_ shoulders. You're not the only hunter in the world, you know."

"No, I know," Dean replied, finishing his own plate and pushing it aside. After slugging down the last of his coffee, he sighed. "But like I said before—how am I supposed to be able to sleep at night knowing that all this stuff's out there and innocent people are being hurt and killed?"

"How much do you actually sleep?" Dallas asked, refilling Dean's coffee mug. "And I mean real, honest sleep?"

"I don't," Dean said, quietly, knowing that they were approaching the subject of Hell and he dreaded talking about it. But more than anything he wanted to talk about it. Where Sam and hunting were like a drug, Hell was a poison always coursing through his body. A poison he desperately wanted out of him. "Ever since I got back from Hell I can't really sleep. Sometimes if I've had enough to drink it's like the volume's turned down on my nightmares but every single night when I close my eyes I relive what happened to me down there. Everything."

Dean's expression was so dark when he looked at Dallas that she unconsciously took a step back from the counter. But Dean didn't seem to notice as he said, "You can't imagine what it was like down there. And time's different. 4 months is more like 40 _years_. And for 30 years I was sliced and carved and hacked… And when I finally couldn't take it anymore they took me down and I started doing the same to other souls. I _liked_ it, Doc. I was able to dish out payback and it felt _good_."

Dallas was unable to think of anything to say and only wordlessly pulled up another stool so that she was facing Dean. After a moment, she just said, quietly, "Go on, Dean."

Dean could feel the hot tears in his eyes and the lump in his throat as he spoke. "You can't even imagine how much I wish it would all end. And seriously? Sometimes I wish Sam and I _hadn't_ stopped the apocalypse because maybe if I was dead I'd actually be able to find some peace. Maybe I'd actually be able to find a way to fill this hole inside." The tears were falling freely now and Dean didn't care. He was tired of it all. He felt broken inside and it seemed that every time he and Dallas talked another piece of him cracked further.

* * *

Despite hours of research and Castiel's assistance, all Bobby, Samuel, and Sam had been able to find out was that while someone had yanked Sam out of Hell, they'd left his soul behind in the cage with Michael and Lucifer.

Worst of all, Bobby was starting to lose his patience with both Sam _and_ Samuel.

Samuel had been continually insisting that Dean should be aware of what was going on with his brother. Something that Bobby insisted would be counter-productive to Dean's long-needed psychotherapy.

And Sam just didn't really seem to care at all.

Sitting at the desk in the library, Bobby sighed as he looked over the books littering the room.

"What's the matter, Bobby?"

Bobby's head whipped up and he found himself looking at the crossroads demon, Crowley. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here, you son of a bitch."

"Really," Crowley replied, calmly as he walked up to Bobby's desk. "And after I was nice enough to return your soul." With a smug smile, he added, "Of course, if you lot had actually thought things through while you had me by the short and curlies you might have asked me to return Sam's soul as well."

Bobby slowly stood up, keeping his gaze fixed on Crowley. "What do you know about Sam's soul?"

Crowley looked honestly amused as he replied, "Oh, I know quite a lot, actually. One of my favorite pieces of property, actually." Walking around the room, he asked, "So where's Dean?" Catching the surprised look on Bobby's face, Crowley's smug grin seemed to intensify. "Oh, you want to know how I knew? Fine. Because you lot are just far too predictable. Someone's got a crisis, you all hole up here. I mean, it's convenient having you all in one place, but… it won't do you any good." Looking around again as Sam and Samuel came into the room, Crowley asked again, "Really. Where is Dean? Strange as it sounds I actually sort of miss his dulcet tones telling me to go to Hell."

"He's not here," Samuel replied, calmly.

"Thanks for the newsflash, Chrome-Dome," Crowley said, looking at Samuel. "So where is he?" When neither Bobby, Sam, or Samuel responded, he shrugged. "No matter. Don't need him anyway. Here's the deal, boys. I don't really need Sam's soul. It's like one of those garage sale knickknacks you buy 'cause it's only 50 cents. What I _do_ need are details on the location of Purgatory. It's vast, underutilized, and Hell-adjacent."

"Couple hundred years downstairs and you haven't found it yet?" Bobby asked, his eyes narrowed.

Crowley's tone grew clipped as he replied, "Do you lot even understand what Purgatory is? The souls of demons, humans, and scores of who knows what else are there waiting to either be sent upstairs or to my front door. Hell itself is getting a bit crowded. So I'm planning on expanding."

"And if we choose not to go along with this?" Sam asked, his expression dark.

Crowley's smug smile returned as he turned to Sam. "I can either snap my fingers and give you your soul back… or shove you back in the cage. Choice is yours."

For a moment, no one spoke but finally, Samuel nodded shortly. "Alright. Fine."

"Smart man," Crowley replied with a return nod. Looking at the others, he added, "Maybe next time you can invite Dean to the party."

When Crowley had vanished, Bobby turned on Samuel. "What the _hell_ was that about? Have you lost your mind? You actually want to work with _him_?"

"No," Samuel snapped, angrily. "But at least this way we're buying some time to find out another way to get Sam's soul back."

"Yeah, well, I don't like it," Bobby grumbled. "Working with Crowley… We're pretty much just begging him to double-cross us."

"Yeah, well, then let's take out some insurance," Samuel replied, looking at his grandson. "Can you get a hold of your friend, Castiel?"

Sam looked a bit surprised by the question but he shrugged. "I can try. Why?"

"Crowley's looking for Purgatory," Samuel replied with a grin. "Might be something angels would be interested to know about, don't you think?"

Catching on to Samuel's line of thought, Bobby nodded. "If the angels are guarding it and Crowley comes in, they can smite his ass for us."

"Then let's get on it," Sam said, hoping that Samuel was right. Turning his gaze upwards, Sam took a deep breath and said, "Cas, we need some help here…"

* * *

In a bar on the edge of town, Dean sat alone with a glass of whiskey and his thoughts. After his latest session with Dr. Dallas Morgan he'd had to get away for a few hours and found himself drawn to a rather classy looking bar that had one of the best selections of top shelf liquor he'd ever seen.

And the bartender was hot, too. She was a tall, leggy blonde with perfect curves and eyes the color of seawater. She hadn't even asked him for his drink order as he'd sat at the bar—just placed a glass in front of him and poured a shot.

"So what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" Dean asked, although his heart wasn't really in the pick-up line.

But the bartender gave him a warm smile and said, "I own this place. Been in my family for about 80 years." Holding out a hand, she said, "I'm Celeste."

Dean managed a smile as he shook her hand. "Dean Winchester."

"So what's a guy like you doing in a place like this?" Celeste asked as Dean finished his drink. Pouring him another, she gave him a quick look. "Come on. Whatever you've got I promise it isn't the strangest I've ever heard."

Dean played with his glass for a few minutes and finally said, "Can we not talk about it? I've got a shrink for that."

"'Bout damn time," Celeste said, as she finished wiping the bar down. "According to Castiel you're—"

Dean's head snapped up at those words and he fixed her with a sharp look. "You know Cas?"

Celeste smiled as she leaned against the bar, making sure to give Dean a good long look down her low cut top. "Some time ago he sat right where you're sitting, telling me that God wouldn't help stop the apocalypse." Straightening up, she sighed as she poured herself a drink. "I've known Castiel for a long time and that was the first time I'd ever seen him look truly defeated."

Dean straightened up, Celeste's words clicking in his head. "You're an angel."

"It's funny, you know," Celeste said, tossing back her shot of vodka and pouring another. "Naming an angel 'Celeste' is really redundant." After the second shot, she set her glass aside and took a step back from the bar.

Dean remembered when he'd first seen Castiel's wings. They had been dark, threatening, impressive and seemed to enhance the fact that he was not an earthly being.

But when Celeste unfurled her wings, they seemed warm and comforting, like a mother's embrace after a bad dream. "As far as classification, I'm known as one of The Powers." Putting her wings away, she went on. "Most angels are warriors of Heaven. But my duties usually keep me down here."

"How's that?" Dean asked, his own problems momentarily forgotten.

"We're healers, Dean," Celeste explained. "Physical pain… and emotional. And not just humans. Sometimes even angels need healing." Putting a hand on Dean's, she waited until his eyes met hers before going on. "I know the darkness you carry with you, Dean. But unlike your brother, yours comes from a hole that can't be filled."

"Yeah, thanks," Dean muttered, Pulling his hand from Celeste's and tossing back the rest of his drink. Looking her over, he asked, "So what's with the bar?"

"It belongs to my vessel, Gail Hadley," Celeste replied, refilling Dean's glass once more. "Most angels don't bother getting to know the bodies they inhabit, but I've found that it makes it easier to be around humans."

Not wanting to talk about himself and his problems, Dean thought of any distraction and finally asked, "So Cas came to you after he heard Joshua's message, huh?"

Celeste broke into a smile as she leaned against the back of the bar, crossing her arms across her chest. "Oh, yeah. And let me tell you: I could have taken a long tropical vacation with what Castiel drank. If he'd been paying, that is. I mean I've seen angels drink, but him…"

"Yeah, well, how would you feel if you'd been looking all over for God only to have him tell you that he didn't give a rat's ass?" Dean asked, sounding a bit annoyed.

Celeste took a long, calming breath before speaking. "Dean, God cares. Okay? I mean, believe me; I was pissed off when I heard the news but what I realized was that he was being a father."

"Come again?" Dean asked, confused. "Bailing when your kids need help is _not_ being a father. It's being a dick!"

Fixing Dean with a pointed look, she replied, "Your dad, John Winchester, never pulled you out of every mess you got into, did he? You make mistakes, you learn from them, and you move on."

Not sure what to say to that, Dean finished his drink and then pushed his glass aside, no longer in the mood for a refill. The alcohol wasn't helping to fill the emptiness inside him and with as much as he'd been drinking lately, he figured he should stop before he ended up passed out or worse.

Lost in his own thoughts, Dean wasn't away of Celeste coming from behind the bar until she stood right next to him, her hand on his upper arm in the same place as the hand-shaped burn scar where Castiel had gripped him to pull him from Hell. Dean turned to face the angelic bartender and as she leaned in close, he pulled her to him, their lips meeting in a tender kiss.

In the apartment above the bar, Dean and Celeste made love, rolling around in the massive bed, caressing each other tenderly.

And in a single moment of ecstasy, Dean thought he just barely feel the tiniest ray of light touch the emptiness inside his soul.


	5. Chapter 5

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I have to admit, I like writing the character of Crowley. But I did have to kill him, so… Also, Celeste isn't just another pretty angel. She has something of a badass side which gets helped by someone higher up the heavenly ladder.

Also, next chapter-both Dean _and_ Sam will be heading to Colorado for some group therapy.

As always, remember to read, review, and show your love!

* * *

_2 Years Ago_

The bar was empty when a man with disheveled black hair, a rumpled suit and a tan trenchcoat staggered in looking like the entire world had kicked him in the ass.

Celeste waited until the man was seated at the bar before grabbing a bottle of her best single malt scotch and pouring him a shot.

The man took the glass and without another word tossed it back.

"Another?" Celeste asked, holding the bottle out in anticipation. When the man nodded, she poured another shot. "So tell me," she said, when he tossed back the second shot. "What was it? Wife left you? Got fired? End of the world?"

"I'm an angel of the Lord," the man said, quietly. "I was charged with rescuing from Damnation the soul of the man who began the breaking of the 66 Seals which freed Lucifer from Hell and after trying to find God I've been told that God doesn't care that the Apocalypse is coming."

Celeste didn't say anything as she stared at the angel sitting in front of her. But after a moment, she refilled the shot glass once more. "I'm sorry, Cas."

Castiel didn't seem to notice that Celeste had used his name but after a minute, he looked up at her, frowning. "How do you know my name?" he asked, drinking the shot.

"Yeah, you're not down here often enough to recognize me, are you, Castiel?" Celeste said as she set the liquor bottle aside.

"Celeste," Castiel sighed, looking at the empty shot glass. "What are you doing here?"

"Working," Celeste replied, as she started wiping the bar down. "Been in this vessel for almost 5 years now." Looking herself over she said, "Works a lot better than the last vessel I used." Looking at her old friend, she frowned when she saw how beaten he looked… not to mention drunk. "Cas, what happened to you?"

"I found a liquor store," Castiel replied, pushing the shot glass towards Celeste in the universal sign of 'give me another'. Catching Celeste's look of 'And?' he sighed. "And I drank it."

Celeste looked worried as she again filled the shot glass. Angels could drink liqour but while some could drink even the best humans under the table others were total lightweights. Castiel had been a notorious lightweight in the past but apparently his tolerance for alcohol had improved. Sort of.

Slowly, she reached out a hand and as Castiel set the glass down again, she put a hand on his and waited until he met her eyes. "You should stop. Believe it or not you're going to feel like Hell in the morning."

"Then I'll start over again then," Castiel snapped, pulling his hand from Celeste's. "I know what I'm doing."

"Castiel, listen to me," Celeste said, quietly. "Don't do this to yourself."

"Why do we bother with loyalty to Him?" Castiel asked, bleakly. "If He won't even help save all that He created?"

"Maybe it's not loyalty to God we should think about," Celeste suggested. When Castiel looked up, she said, "Our Father created this world, loved humans more than anything, and he wants us, his Angels, to take care of them. Without this world down here what would we have to protect? What would we fight for?"

"We all give our lives to servitude and when we chose to act on our own conscious and emotions we are cast out," Castiel countered.

"Cas, most humans never truly find something to fight for," Celeste replied, trying to make the other angel understand. "We know what we fight for." Putting her hand on his again, she added, "But choosing _why_ we fight for it is up to us. God gave angels free will, too. We just don't always recognize those moments when we see them."

As Castiel sat at the bar, lost in his thoughts and emotions, he felt something else wash over him. It was as if he was swallowed up in a feeling of hope and before he knew what had happened he felt Celeste take him by the hand. He felt a growing need for physical human contact and it seemed to intensify the longer he was in contact with Celeste. He'd been cut off from Heaven and just being near another angel like this seemed to renew his inner faith.

It had been so long since Celeste had been in Heaven that sometimes she even forgot what it was like to have faith. Healing others, feeling the pain of such a vast number of souls was so ingrained into her very being that sometimes got lost in the emotion. As she touched Castiel she felt a longing for Heaven. She wanted to see the immense vastness and to be among her fellow angels, surrounded in a sea of truth and faith where she never questioned anything, least of all herself.

Neither could say who began the kiss but as both Castiel and Celeste found themselves standing in the upstairs bedroom they both felt the rush of emotion and longing as they started the motions of sexual intercourse.

Castiel longing to be with another angel and to find the faith he'd lost.

And Celeste longing to feel bathed in Heaven's love once again.

* * *

_Present Day_

For the first time in years, Dean didn't feel the crushing weight of the world and his own guilt and demons when he woke in the morning. Rolling onto his back, he stared up at the ceiling of Celeste's—or rather Gail Hadley's—apartment. It was strange but some of the confusion he'd been feeling the night before was starting to fade and he was able to think clearly for the first time in a long time.

"Banging an angel while your brother's missing his soul. Really, Dean, I'm surprised at you."

Dean bolted upright when he heard Crowley's voice. "What the Hell are you doing here?"

"What can I say? I missed you," Crowley replied, smirking. "You weren't at Bobby Singer's when I popped in for a chat with the old boy. Never imagined I'd find you here, of course."

Mentally backtracking what Crowley had said, Dean stiffened as he said, "What do you mean Sam's missing his soul?"

Crowley snapped his fingers and Dean was surprised to find himself fully dressed and downstairs at the bar. Appearing behind the bar, Crowley pulled out a bottle from nowhere and poured two shots, handing one of them to Dean. "It's not poisoned," Crowley assured him.

Dean took a hesitant taste, his eyes widening as the taste of the finest Scotch Whiskey in the world flowed over his taste buds. "What about my brother?" Dean snapped, fixing the demon with a glare.

"What?" Crowley asked, the smug grin still on his face. "No small talk? Bit of catching up? I'm disappointed."

Setting the drink glass aside, Dean got off the barstool and gave Crowley his best 'I'm going to kill you' glare. "Start talking, Crowley."

The smug grin vanished and Crowley's eyes seemed to grow even colder as he replied, "Unless you want Sammy's soul to remain in the Cage with Michael and Lucifer I suggest you show me some respect."

Dean didn't say anything but he was very tempted to try and make a run upstairs for his gun. At the same time he felt as if the floor had fallen out from under him as he replayed in his head what Crowley had said. Sam was missing his _soul_? Dean had known that there was something wrong with his brother but _this_? Was Bobby even going to _tell_ him?

"Obviously no one told you about Sam," Crowley went on as he sipped his drink. "Not that I care why. However, I'm not here to talk about that." With an almost hungry look, he added, "I need something from you, Dean."

"Answer's 'no', you dick," Dean snapped, angrily.

"Okay," Crowley said in an exasperated tone. "How about this? You tell me what I need to know I give you little Sammy's soul back. Refuse, I throw _both_ of you into the Pit? How's that work for you?" As if it were an afterthought he added, "And I'll kill your angel friend upstairs along with Bobby Singer, Samuel, and anyone else close to you."

"You're bluffing," Dean said, quietly although deep down he knew that Crowley wasn't. "You're just a punk-ass crossroad's demon."

"Got promoted," Crowley replied, the smug grin back on his face. "Now… King of Hell. Trust me: not bluffing."

"What do you want?" Dean ground out through clenched teeth.

"Tell me about your little vacation to my backyard," Crowley said, simply. "And please. Don't spare any details."

Reaching across the bar and grabbing the crossroads demon by the lapels, Dean jerked him forward, a cold, mad look in his eye. "Or here's a better idea," Dean said, quietly, his eyes clearly stating that he meant every word he spoke. "How about I get my buddy, Castiel, to put your ass in an Enochian devil's trap and I can show _exactly_ what I did down there?" Grabbing a nearby salt shaker with one hand he wrenched off the top and with one swift motion started to dump the salt down Crowley's throat. "Give my brother back his soul!" Dean shouted before starting to mutter the exorcism rite.

"Dean!"

Before Dean could finish he was pulled off by Celeste who stood between him and Crowley. "Get out of here," Dean said, still trying to get back at the demon.

Celeste held out a hand and Dean flew backwards. "Sorry, Dean." Turning to Crowley, she said, "Don't make me hurt you."

Coughing up blood, Crowley glared at Dean. "I'll kill the both of you for that." But before he could move any further, Crowley found himself pinned to the wall.

Pinning Dean up against one of the tables and Crowley up against the wall, Celeste huffed, clearly pissed off. "Okay, boys. I may be a lover not a fighter but I have had it." Looking at Crowley, she glared at him. "Now if I have to call in every favor I have to get Sam's soul out of Hell, I will. Or we can do this the easy way and you can just cough it up now." Turning to Dean, she said, "Dean, unless you want that darkness to swallow you up you better just stay out of this. Now… If I let you go will you promise not to kill him until Sam gets his soul back?"

Dean glared at Crowley and Celeste before sighing. "Fine!" When he felt himself released from the hold, he straightened up and walked over to Celeste who was focusing her energy on Crowley. "I want my brother's soul back."

"Why should I give you anything?" Crowley snapped, angrily. "Soon as I do your girlfriend here kills me."

"I'm probably going to kill you anyway," Celeste replied, calmly. "But if you return Sam Winchester's soul I promise I will make it a swift death."

Crowley started to make a retort but as he looked into Celeste's eyes, he found that he was no longer looking at an angel, nor was this an angelic vessel. "You can't be…" Crowley said, quietly, fear in his voice.

Dean looked from Crowley to Celeste, wondering what the demon saw to make him suddenly afraid. "Celeste?"

"With you in a minute, Dean," she said, calmly. But when she spoke to Crowley, her voice changed ever so slightly. "Do we have a deal, demon?"

Crowley looked resigned as replied, "Alright!" Closing his eyes for a moment he started muttering under his breath. When he opened his eyes again, he said, "It's done. Sam's got his soul back. Now… Release me!"

"No," Celeste replied, although this time her voice was much deeper than before. Looking at Dean, she said, "Shut your eyes."

"What?" Dean asked, confused. What was going on?

"Do it!" Celeste ordered in her own voice. When Dean did so, she let the being inside of her take over and she was consumed by all the powers of the universe. For a moment, she was lost in the glow, reveling in the presence of something she'd only ever heard about. When it was over, she found herself lying on the floor of the bar, Dean kneeling down next to her. Looking over to where Crowley had been, she saw that he was gone.

"You okay?" Dean asked, helping Celeste sit up. When she nodded, he asked, "What the hell _was_ that?"

"Wrong direction," Celeste muttered as she tried to get to her feet. "Whoa…" Staggering over to the bar, she grabbed the glass of scotch and tossed it back, not in the mood to savor the taste. When she felt a bit steadier, she sat on one of the barstools as Dean came over, looking a bit confused. "Not Hell, Dean. Heaven."

"Heaven?" Dean repeated, not quite sure what she meant by that.

"God, specifically," Celeste replied, nodding.

Dean was floored by that news. After all this, after refusing to help stop the apocalypse, _now_ God decided to step in and lend a hand? "God? Why?" he wanted to know. "Why just come down and save the day now?"

"I don't know," Celeste admitted. After a moment to allow her energies to readjust, she added, "But He told me something, Dean." Standing up slowly, she looked Dean in the eye and said, "God can't take away your memories of Hell. But you've given up so much… He wants to give you something back."

Dean wasn't sure what to say to that but when Celeste placed her hand over his heart, he leaned forward and kissed her. There was such a feeling of comfort and love when he was with her, it was overwhelming.

Celeste pulled back, her hand still over Dean's heart. Closing her eyes, she felt a rush of energy travel through her and into Dean. Lowering her hand, she smiled. "I hope you find what you need, Dean." As she gave him one last kiss, she sent him to Sioux Falls and his brother.

* * *

Sam felt like he was burning up. Stepping outside even though he was only wearing his jeans he still felt hot but the cold wind made him feel a little better. As he started to cool off, Sam felt a sudden burst of pain in his head and he fell to the ground as suddenly a tidal wave of emotions and feeling suddenly engulfed him. Fear, anger, guilt, sadness, happiness all surrounded him at once and his mind started replaying moments of the past months, moments which seemed to change now that he could feel the emotions connected to them.

He felt happiness at being out of Hell and seeing Dean with Lisa and Ben.

There was regret that he had pulled his brother back into hunting, especially when he remembered how good Dean was with the baby shapeshifter.

And Sam felt panic as he remembered seeing Dean turned by a vampire along with guilt at standing by and watching it happen.

"Sam. Sam! Sam!"

Lost in the storm of memories and emotions, Sam couldn't focus on the voice he heard calling his name, if it was even real. Then the memories of Hell hit him and he was even more overwhelmed by the sounds of screams and the smell of hot blood and fire and burning flesh.

"Sammy! Hey!"

Hearing Dean's voice, Sam didn't care if it was a memory or real. He focused on the voice and slowly the heat melted away and Sam blinked as the images of the Cage faded to be replaced with the sight of the Singer Salvage Yard. "Dean…" Sam muttered as he started to feel very cold.

"Stay with me, Sammy," Dean's voice ordered. "Stay with me."

X

Dean had arrived at Bobby's and had hurried over to Sam when he saw his brother outside wearing only a pair of old, faded jeans. Seeing Sam double over before he fell to the ground, Dean ran over, holding onto his brother, trying to keep him focused.

"Dean?" Sam said, his voice sounding stronger.

"Sammy," Dean said, relieved as Sam sat up, looking around.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked, surprised.

Dean laughed as he helped his brother up and as the two of them headed inside the house, Dean replied, "Let's get you some clothes and a couple beers and I'll tell you all about it."


	6. Chapter 6

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Watching the episode 'Caged Heat' all I can say is "WOW!" Twists, turns and WTF all over! I also pulled a story idea or two from the episode along with something else I'd thought of which was: Can angels make 'crossroads' deals with humans?

Next chapter: Someone's back from the dead, Dean heads back to Colorado with Sam in tow and Bobby is put in an uncomfortable position.

Chapter 6

* * *

Dean was startled awake by a panicked scream the next morning and hurried up to Bobby's guest room where Sam was thrashing about in bed. "Sammy!" Going to his brother, Dean tried to grab Sam but ended up getting a wild hit to the face. "SAM!" Dean shouted and he jumped back as Sam fell to the floor. Kneeling down as Sam curled up, Dean tried to calm his brother. "Sam, it's okay. You're okay."

Sam's body slowly started to relax but all of a sudden his eyes opened quickly and he started looking around, wildly. Panting heavily, Sam took a moment to get his breath back before looking at his brother. "Dean?"

"I'm here, Sammy," Dean assured him, keeping a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'm right here."

"I-I thought I was…" Sam trailed off and shook his head, shrugging off Dean's hand as he stood up. "It's nothing. I'm fine, Dean."

"Sam, it's okay," Dean assured him, standing up as well. "Come on, talk to me."

"Oh, like you opened up to me after you got out of Hell?" Sam snapped, turning away.

Dean didn't say anything, instead heading downstairs to find Samuel and Bobby in the kitchen with— "Cas?" Dean said in surprise as he saw the angel, Castiel. "What are you doing here?"

"Is Sam okay?" Bobby asked, looking worried.

"He had a nightmare," Dean replied, looking at the others. "He's fine. Trust me; it's actually kind of normal."

"And yesterday?" Samuel asked, also looking concerned. "Sam running outside when it's 40 degrees without a shirt or shoes? You think that's normal, too?"

"What's this about?" Dean asked, narrowing his eyes. "Sam's going to be fine."

"Are you certain about that?" Castiel asked, pointedly.

"Look, Sam's soul has been in the cage with Michael and Lucifer for more than a year up here," Dean replied, stiffly. "I don't even want to think about how long it was down there. Yeah, he's going to have a couple nightmares. But he'll be fine," Dean added, insistently.

"How'd you get here, anyway?" Bobby asked, changing the subject, although the look in his eyes told Dean that the subject of Sam was by no means closed.

"Got winged here by one of Cas's buddies," Dean replied. When Castiel frowned slightly in puzzlement he said, "Celeste?" Seeing the slightly embarrassed look on the angel's face, Dean's eyes widened. "Wait, you… You and her?"

When both Samuel and Bobby gave him raised eyebrows, Castiel cleared his throat before speaking. "There are many different types of angels. Some have particular skill at healing. Celeste is one such angel. The first, actually."

"Come again?" Dean asked, his curiosity piqued.

Clarifying, Castiel went on. "Celeste is one of 5 who have actually seen God. She possesses the strongest healing abilities."

"Well, she's done more than _see_ God," Dean said, a bit surprised that Celeste had had those kinds of abilities.

"What do you mean?" Castiel asked, frowning.

"Crowley paid me a surprise visit yesterday morning," Dean replied before glaring at Bobby and Samuel. "By the way—When were you planning on telling me my brother was missing his soul?" Dean shouted, angrily.

"I wanted to tell you," Samuel replied, defensively. "I told Bobby you'd want to be here to help but he said to leave you out of it."

"What about Celeste?" Castiel asked, wanting to know about his fellow angel.

Dean glared at Bobby again and picked up the story where he'd left off. "Crowley tried to boss me around. I was getting ready to rip the demon's head off when Celeste intervened." Taking a breath, he went on. "She had Crowley pinned against the wall. Told me to shut my eyes and when I looked again he was dead."

"Do angels have that kind of firepower?" Bobby asked, looking at Castiel.

Castiel looked anxious as he began to pace the small kitchen. "Only the archangels possess those kinds of abilities. But there is another way."

"She said something about God," Dean added.

At those words, Castiel stopped pacing and fixed Dean with a deep, penetrating stare. After a moment of seeing into Dean's thoughts, Castiel turned to the group at large. "God must have used Celeste as a vessel in order to smite Crowley."

Samuel looked confused at that. "Wait, I thought angels had to use humans as vessels. So, whoever this girl actually was—she was used twice?"

Castiel nodded. "God cannot simply take over an empty vessel. He must act through another angel who has taken charge of their own vessel."

"Look, whatever she did," Dean interjected. "She got rid of Crowley after he returned Sam's soul and then she did something to me."

"Like what?" Bobby asked, giving Dean an insinuating look.

Catching the look, Dean felt his cheeks get hot. "She put her hand over my heart and something went through me. It wasn't like the night before when she and I—"

"So the two of you _did_…?" Bobby asked, giving the younger man a smile.

"It's… one of her methods of healing," Castiel supplied, trying to spare Dean. "Celeste belongs to the phylum of angels known as The Powers. Some people they can heal simply with their presence or with the sound of their voice while others require physical contact. How much contact depends on how much healing an individual requires."

Pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot on the counter, Dean didn't say anything else but he was wondering if perhaps Celeste could help Sam.

xxxxxxxx

Although it was still fairly chilly outside, Dean had headed out after a hasty breakfast to take a look at the Impala. Working on the car calmed his mind and allowed him to reflect on the past couple days. He seriously wanted to stay here at Bobby's and make sure that Sam was okay but Dallas's words from before continued to echo in his head.

"Sam said I'd probably find you out here," Samuel said, coming out and joining his grandson.

"Need something, Samuel?" Dean asked, checking the fluid levels in his car and going around to the trunk when he noticed that the coolant was low.

"Crowley didn't just bring Sam back," Samuel replied without preamble. "He brought me back, too. And if I gave him what he wanted he said he'd bring back someone else, as well."

Pouring the coolant into the well, Dean said, "Yeah? Who?"

"Your mother."

Dean straightened up, placing the empty jug on top of the engine before turning to face his grandfather. "He said he'd bring Mom back?" Looking doubtful, he added, "And you just trusted Crowley to keep his word?"

"Doesn't matter," Samuel said, bitterly. "Because thanks to you and your angel friend, I've lost Mary again."

Dean sighed as he set the jug on the ground and slammed the hood of the Impala. "I know how you feel."

"No, you don't," Samuel snapped. "You know the one difference between us? You know how to live without her."

"Don't say that," Dean replied, coolly. "Don't. Not you… and not to me. Because I'll tell you what. _Dad_ never learned how to deal with Mom's death and neither did I. I remember, Samuel. I can still remember sitting at that kitchen table in Lawrence, Kansas eating PB&J with the crusts cut off and a glass of milk and Mom asking me if I wanted a piece of pie."

"Mary's my daughter," Samuel said, quietly, trying to made Dean understand. "I was supposed to protect her. You of all people should understand."

"Oh, I do," Dean assured him. "That is why I am begging you to learn from my mistakes. I know you want Mom back. And if I could have I would have done _anything_ to make sure Crowley made good on that promise." Making sure his grandfather was listening, he added, "But I'll tell you something. This? The way Sam and I keep sacrificing everything for family? It's how the bad guys get us every time. It's our Achilles' heel and apparently it runs in the family." Forcing himself to take a breath, Dean calmed town a bit before he said, "I get that you miss Mom. And believe me—I miss her, too. Every damn day. But deals with demons? Trust me, you can't sink any lower than that."

"Dean, I…" Samuel rubbed his face with one hand. He looked beat down and tired as he said, "I know. Alright? I hear what you're saying. I do. But what else can I do?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted. Without another word, he headed inside, leaving Samuel alone.

"You know, I could spend an eternity working on this family alone. I mean, the emotional and psychological pain alone..."

Samuel whirled around and saw a young blonde woman standing there. "Who are you?"

"Friend of Dean's," the woman said with a smile as she walked over to the Chevy Impala and sat on the hood. "From upstairs, not down," she added, cheerfully.

"Oh, let me guess," Samuel said, sneering a bit. "You're the angel who killed the last chance I had of getting my daughter back."

Celeste nodded, her smile fading. "Yes, I am. And I wish I could help you, Samuel. Trust me, I do."

"I'll do anything," Samuel said, desperately. "Please… Just bring Mary back."

Celeste sighed as she slid off the hood. "I've got pull, you know. One of the first angels ever created." Taking a step towards Samuel, she said, "But I can't just resurrect someone who's been dead for so long." Giving him a pointed look she added, "Not without something in return."

"What do you want?" Samuel asked, not caring what the cost was. "You want to make a deal? Fine. You can have me. Just bring Mary back."

"This isn't a crossroads deal, Samuel," Celeste assured him. "You won't be going to Hell." Seeing that Samuel still looked confused, she sighed. "When you die you'll go right back to Heaven."

"Okay," Samuel agreed.

Celeste nodded before saying, "I can only give you one year. I know it's not long but It's the best I can do without—"

"I'll take it," Samuel assured her.

Celeste hesitated slightly but finally she nodded. "Okay." Reaching out a hand, she touched Samuel's chest and whispered something in Enochian. Withdrawing her hand, she said, "I'll be back."

Once she vanished, Samuel found himself suddenly wondering if he'd done the right thing. One year… It didn't seem long enough to make up for everything… But it was time with his daughter and that was what mattered.


	7. Chapter 7

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Canon almost screwed me up on this chapter because I was about halfway through the chapter when I realized: "Oh, my God! There wasn't actually a body when Mary Winchester died!" But then remembering that Sam and Dean's half-brother Adam crawled out of a grave when he'd been cremated I figured I was okay.

Chapter Summary: Mary Winchester is back, Samuel and Dean have another heart-to-heart, and Celeste tells Castiel her big secret.

Chapter 7

* * *

It was early morning on a chilly October day when Mary Winchester finally managed to crawl out of her grave. Lying breathless in the cemetery she wasn't sure how she could possibly be alive. She remembered being pinned to the ceiling of Sam's nursery, eyes wide with terror. She remembered John staring at her in horror, screaming her name as the fire consumed her.

"Hello, Mary."

Mary looked up and saw a young woman standing about 10 feet away. After slowly getting to her feet, she asked, "Where am I?"

"Lawrence, Kansas," the woman replied as she approached Mary. "And it's the year 2010."

"What?" Marry whispered, doubtfully. "But how…? Who are you?"

"My name is Celeste," the other woman replied with a smile. "I'm an angel of the Lord."

"An angel?" Mary asked, not sure of what to make of all this. She had really been dead 28 years? What about John? Or more importantly what had happened to Sam and Dean?

"I know you've got a lot of questions," Celeste said, calmly, holding out a hand. "And I promise I'll help explain everything. Just come with me."

Mary's years of being raised as a hunter made her go on the defensive. This could be some sort of demonic trick. Just because the thing facing her claimed it was an angel didn't mean it couldn't be lying. But at the same time, she remembered her father always encouraging her to trust her instincts. And it was those instincts that were telling Mary that Celeste was someone who could be trusted. Mary took Celeste's hand and what felt like wings surrounded her. The next thing she knew they were no longer in the cemetery but in an old car junkyard standing next to a black '67 Chevrolet Impala.

Mary walked over to the car and ran a hand across the hood, as she stared in disbelief. She could still remember when John first brought the car home. He was so happy… Looking inside the car, however, her heart plummeted when she saw a couple of knives and a sawed off shotgun in the backseat. Straightening up, she turned to look at Celeste, fighting back tears. "My sons… are hunters?" Mary asked, praying desperately that it wasn't true.

Celeste stuck her hands in the pockets of her jeans and nodded, sadly. "I'm afraid so."

"And John?" Mary asked, a pit forming in her stomach. "Does he know?"

"Mary, I'm not the one who—"

But Mary cut Celeste off as tears started rolling down her face. "No! I come back from the dead after almost 30 years and now you tell me my sons are demon hunters? I want to know the truth!"

Celeste sighed as she looked at Mary but before she could say anything she saw Sam, Dean, Samuel, and Bobby coming out of the house. "Okay." Giving a quick nod in the direction the guys were coming from, Celeste waited until Mary's back was turned before winging off.

When Mary saw her father she almost fainted then and there. And then her eye went to the two younger men. "Oh, my God," she gasped, her hands going to her mouth. After a moment, she slowly lowered her hands as she took a few steps towards her father and her sons. "Dean? Sammy?"

"Mary," Samuel said, stepping forward quickly to hug his daughter. But after they shared a quick embrace, Mary pulled away and turned to Sam and Dean.

"Mom," Dean said, his voice husky with emotion and disbelief.

Mary quickly hugged Dean before taking a step back and hugging Sam. When she finally took a moment to look at her boys, she felt fresh tears falling down her cheeks. "My boys…" she said, finally smiling. Looking at Dean, she said, "You look like John when we first met." Turning to Sam, she gave a small laugh. "You got tall, Sammy."

Sam laughed at that. "Yeah, I, uh… I sprouted when I was in 9th grade. Dwarfed Dean back then, too."

Looking around, Mary started to wonder where John was. When she finally voiced the question, Sam and Dean exchanged looks. "Dean…?" she asked, not liking the sinking feeling in her stomach.

But it was neither Sam nor Dean who responded but rather the scruffy looking man wearing a faded ball cap. "John was killed by the yellow-eyed demon about 5 years ago."

Seeing his mother's look, Dean sighed before saying, "Mom, this is Bobby Singer. He's basically been like second father to Sam and me over the years."

"Nice to meet you, Bobby," Mary said, shaking his hand.

Bobby gave her a nod. "Same here. I knew John a long time."

Mary just nodded, feeling overwhelmed.

"I could use a beer," Bobby said, trying to cover the awkward silence.

"I'm game," Dean agreed, looking at the rest of his family.

"Sounds good," Sam said, nodding.

After a moment, Mary asked, "Do you have anything stronger?"

xx

While Sam and Bobby filled Mary in on the events of the past 28 years, Dean pulled his grandfather aside before fixing him with a hard glare. "So what did it cost?" Dean asked, setting his beer down.

"Dean," Samuel began but he stopped. "You know what? I don't have to explain myself. You know why I did it."

"I didn't say 'why'," Dean said, quietly. "I asked what it cost to bring Mom back. Did you find another crossroads demon or what?"

"Not a demon," Samuel sighed. "Your friend, Celeste."

Dean rubbed his face with one hand as he thought about that. "And? What else did she say?"

Samuel sighed again before looking in the direction of the kitchen to make sure no one was listening. "Celeste gave me a year before I…"

"And Mom?" Dean asked ready to tear his grandfather a new one.

Samuel shook his head, knowing where Dean was going with the question. "Mary gets to stay. But when the year is up I get sent back to heaven."

"God, what is with this family and making deals?" Dean muttered to himself, rolling his eyes as he paced the room. "Demons, angels…"

"What would you have done?" Samuel asked, quietly.

But Dean just shook his head. "I get it. Trust me, I do." Fixing Samuel with a look, he said, "But you have to tell Mom."

Samuel started at that. He hadn't intended to tell Mary anything about the deal until absolutely necessary. "Why? Why does she have to know, Dean? So she can make some sort of deal of her own to let me stay? I just want to be able to have some time with my family again. When my time's up, that's fine. You said it yourself, Dean. You, your dad, Sam… there's a family tradition of self-sacrifice. It stops with me, I promise you that."

But Dean seemed doubtful. It wasn't that he doubted the sincerity of his grandfather's words but he knew his family was screwed up enough that the deals and the sacrifices would never really end. And while he wanted to give Samuel the illusion that he was right, Dean knew that he had to face reality. "You can't promise that, Samuel. You don't know what any of us are going to face. It'll happen again and just start another round of this family giving up everything for each other."

"You're right," Samuel admitted, regretfully. "But I know one thing." It was something that had haunted him a long time while he was in heaven and once Crowley had brought him back and he'd seen the family Dean had tried to build, one thing became painfully clear. "If our family has one curse it's all of this."

It took Dean a moment to understand what Samuel meant. "You mean being hunters."

Samuel nodded, sadly. "It's cost me everything, Dean. And I know it's cost you and Sam, too."

Dean leaned against the desk in Bobby's study and let out a long sigh. "So you think we can just break the family curse? Hmm? Go live normal lives? I don't know about you, but I can't do that. I couldn't live with myself knowing what's out there, knowing that I can stop these things and I didn't. Hunting isn't a job, it's not a calling… It's in my blood." Thinking about long ago when the angel Zachariah had zapped him into a world of normal life, Dean added, "And even if I went back to Lisa and Ben… If I'd had 10 years away from all this I'd still find my way back to it eventually. It's in me, and there's nothing I can do about it."

xx

Sitting in Bobby's kitchen, looking at his mother, Sam thought of all the things he'd ever wanted to say to her but he just couldn't say them. But as she sat down next to him, Mary gave her youngest son a warm smile. "Sam…" Touching his cheek, she said, "I'm sorry, honey."

"For what?" Sam asked, not quite looking her in the eye.

"I never should have made that deal with the yellow-eyed demon," Mary replied, sadly. "If I hadn't…"

"It wasn't your fault, Mom," Sam insisted. "You couldn't have known."

"Sam's right," Bobby insisted. "'Sides, we can't change the past."

"Right," Mary replied. Looking at Sam, she could see the lines on his face which made him look older than 28. His brown eyes looked haunted and when she thought about all she'd seen on hunts she could only imagine the horrors her son had seen. "So are you and Dean still single or…?" Why was it so hard to talk to her own son?

Giving a soft laugh, Sam shook his head. "No, I'm, uh… I'm not with anyone. Uh, Dean's hoping to get back with his girlfriend, Lisa, though. They split up a while back but they're trying to work things out."

"Does Lisa know about what you do?" Mary asked, wondering if Lisa and Dean had broken up because of Dean being a hunter.

"She knows," Sam replied, not sure how much of the truth to divulge. "Dean and I saved her son couple years back."

Mary straightened up a bit. "She has a son?" When Sam nodded, she asked, "Is he… Is Dean the father?"

Sam thought back, trying to remember if Dean had ever actually said but when he remembered asking the question, Dean hadn't replied. "I don't know. Kid's name is Ben. Dean never told me whether or not he was Ben's father."

The idea of Dean's girlfriend having a son—possibly by Dean—got Mary to thinking. "Did Dean..? Was he training Ben to be a hunter?"

"I don't think so," Sam replied, seeing where his mother was going with the line of questions. "Dean was pretty adamant about keeping Lisa and Ben away from all that stuff."

Mary nodded, gratefully. Just the idea of Sam and Dean raising their own children as hunters made her feel sick.

"Uh, I hate to interrupt," Bobby said, popping a fresh beer and looking at Mary. "But there's something I wanted to ask you."

"What's that?" Mary asked, turning her attention to Bobby and ignoring the ever so slight rise in her heart rate when her eyes met his.

"How in the world are you back?" Bobby asked.

Sam looked from Bobby to Mary, not sure why he hadn't thought to ask the question from the start. After Mary had passed the usual silver/holy water/salt tests Sam and Bobby had tried to catch Mary up on past events while Samuel and Dean spoke in private.

Mary wasn't sure how to explain but given that Sam and Bobby knew about angels, she told them about crawling out of a grave in Lawrence and about Celeste.

* * *

At the bar in Colorado, Celeste wasn't surprised when the last few stragglers of the night mysteriously collapsed and Castiel appeared at the counter. "Hi, Cas. Want a drink?"

"No," Castiel replied, flatly. "You brought back Mary Winchester."

"I made a deal with Samuel Campbell," Celeste replied, nonchalantly. "And before you ask why let me just say that we owe them."

"Owe them what?" Castiel replied, frowning. "Sam and Dean started the apocalypse. Because Michael is in the cage with Lucifer Heaven is in the middle of a war that we are very close to losing. What do we owe them?"

"We owe Sam and Dean," Celeste replied, feeling her temper rising. "—because if you and Zachariah hadn't been so _damn_ hung up on secrecy and destiny we could have stopped all this right from the jump! If one of _us_ had brought Sam back Dean wouldn't have been in Hell, the seals wouldn't have broken and none of this would have happened!"

Castiel gave her a piercing stare and while he hated admitting it, Celeste had a very good point. "We all follow His orders," he said, trying to rationalize.

"God didn't want all this!" Celeste shouted, angrily. "Castiel, God didn't create us to serve His will. What is a gardener without a garden to care for? He created us as His children—perfect and flawless. But then He realized that it was the flaws that make us individuals. When He created humans He wanted all angels to see them as unique creations. Lucifer saw them as flaws." Leaning forward, she went on. "You want to know why Heaven is in a power-play? Because a lot of angels are tired of following orders from a father who they don't believe exists."

"Then help me," Castiel implored. "You've been God's vessel. You can help us end this war."

"No, I can't," Celeste replied. "Because… Because God is meant to be in Heaven and I have to stay down here." Seeing the other angel's confused and astonished look, she sighed. "I never wanted this, Cas. I belong with angels. But when God made me… He said that humans aren't meant to carry the weight of heaven and earth. I was. I am meant to have faith when others don't, to heal when they're so beat down there's no other place to go."

Castiel took a step back as he understood. On the counter, an old amulet on a leather cord started to glow with the heat building up inside it. Looking at Celeste, he found that there was more behind her eyes than mere angel or human vessel.

"Those who set out to seek God never find him when they want to," Celeste said, taking the amulet by the cord and handing it Castiel. "You can only find Him when you're meant to." When Castiel took the amulet she smiled. "Make sure that gets back to Dean safe, okay?"

"I will," Castiel promised before disappearing.


	8. Chapter 8

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I will be getting back to the psychological stuff, but I'm not sure about how to do the stuff with Sam and Dallas Morgan, so…

I'm hoping to write more with Dean and Ben in the next chapter along with what Sam will be up to.

Chapter 8

* * *

It was nearly 3 in the morning and Dean was sitting out in the lot of the Singer Salvage Yard on the hood of his Impala, staring up at the cloudless sky, lost in thought. Earlier in the day Lisa had called, saying that she had thought about letting Dean come back and agreed on three conditions.

The first was that Dean had to walk away from being a hunter. No quick trips, no 'sure, I'll check things out, back by dinner' for other local hunters. That, Dean had expected and although he knew it would be impossible to shake the attitude and instincts, he was willing to do what it took if it meant having Lisa and Ben back in his life.

The second condition was that Dean keep up with weekly therapy sessions with Dr. Dallas Morgan. Dallas had even offered to come down to Indiana for the sessions on the weekends. Dean didn't mind—actually, he knew he still needed psychological help and Dallas had even told him that he needed long-term help.

The third condition Lisa had set was that Dean try and get his old job with the construction company back and to her surprise he'd quickly agreed.

What had drawn Dean to construction in the first place was simply the fact that for most of his life he'd never had a real home. And the idea of building houses—building _homes_—for others truly appealed to him. The idea that he was building something where parents could raise their kids gave Dean that good feeling that he could remember having when he was 4 years old, living in Lawrence, Kansas.

"Dean?"

Starting at the voice calling his name, Dean relaxed when he saw his mother coming towards him. "Mom."

"Can't sleep?" Mary asked as she joined her son. Looking at the Impala, she smiled. "When you were a baby, you'd get fussy at night. Your father would drive around for hours until you finally fell asleep."

Dean smiled at that. "Just got a lot of stuff on my mind, I guess." The smile faded as he looked over at his mother. "There were a lot of times after Dad died that I wished he was back. You know, so he could tell me what to do. At the same time I also wanted you back 'cause then Sam and I could just…"

Mary sat on the hood of the car and put her arm around Dean. "It's okay, Dean. It'll all be okay," she said, quietly. She knew Dean was an adult but she also knew that deep down, her son needed her to just hold him close like she did when he was young.

It seemed stupid, but Dean couldn't help himself as he laid his head on his mother's shoulder, feeling her give him a comforting squeeze. He felt like these long years past were some awful dream he'd only now woken up from and now everything would be the way it should have been. Straightening up, Dean tried to regain his composure.

But Mary wasn't fooled. Smiling at her son, she said, "How about a piece of pie? There should be some left from after dinner."

Dean started to shake his head but the idea of pie that his mother had made was too enticing. Giving her a smile, he slid off of the Impala's hood and followed Mary back inside Bobby's house and into the kitchen. Once seated at the table, Dean waited until his mother sat down before he asked, "How'd you do it all those years, Mom?" When he saw that she needed more to go on, Dean clarified. "How'd you just… live a normal life knowing about what's really out there?"

Mary thought about the question for a moment. Her father had asked her that earlier in the evening but she had a feeling Dean wouldn't go for the same answer. "I thought about it a lot, actually," she finally replied. "Every time I saw something about a suspicious death in the paper or heard something on the news…"

"Why didn't you do anything about it?" Dean wanted to know.

"Because I had a family," Mary said, simply. "Because I didn't want to do what my parents did and raise my children as hunters. I wanted you and Sam to grow up, get married, have kids." Reaching forward to touch Dean's cheek, she gave him a sad smile. "I wanted my boys to be happy. To have normal lives that didn't involve hunting demons and monsters."

Dean nodded as Mary lowered her hand. "I hear you, Mom. I just… I don't know how to do it."

"It's okay, Dean," Mary insisted, giving him a warm look. "You'll figure it out."

"Yeah," Dean muttered under his breath as he dug into his pie.

* * *

The next morning, Dean was the last up and when he came down, he was surprised when Bobby led him outside. "What's up, Bobby?"

"Wanted to ask you the same thing," Bobby replied, crossing his arms and leaning against the hood of an old Ford pick-up. "What's going on with you and Lisa?"

"Ahhh," Dean said, running a hand through his hair. "Well, she's taking me back. God only knows why…"

"That's good to hear," Bobby replied, gruffly. "So when are you heading out?"

Letting out a dry laugh, Dean asked, "Eager to get rid of me already, Bobby?"

"No," Bobby replied with a sigh. "Look, Dean. You've got your life waiting for you. Are you honestly telling me you're not itching to get back to having a normal life?"

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't," Dean replied. After everything he'd been through with Sam and the Campbells, and Crowley, all Dean could think about was holding Lisa in his arms again or hanging out with Ben as they worked on the pick-up truck.

"Then what's holding you back?" Bobby wanted to know. Although, he knew why Dean was reluctant. But still, he needed to hear Dean say it.

"Honestly?" Dean said, ready to be made fun of. "Mom." Catching Bobby's look, he rolled his eyes. "Bobby, I…" But seeing the nervous look in Bobby Singer's eye, Dean raised his eyebrows. "Bobby? Don't tell me you and Mom…"

Bobby looked even more nervous as he tried to think of how to explain the situation. He couldn't tell how Dean felt about the idea and as much as he liked the idea of courting Mary, Dean more important to him. "Your mom's quite a gal, Dean."

"Yeah, but Bobby…" Dean said, trying to wrap his head around the idea of his mother and Bobby together. After a moment, though, he laughed and gave the other man a smile. "If the two of you are happy… go for it."

Bobby looked surprised at that. "Really?" He'd been expecting Dean to argue or something.

But Dean just shrugged. "Hey, you and I know how hard it is to find a girl that'll put up with you and can deal with all the crazy things out there.."

"Thanks," Bobby replied, eyebrows still raised. "I think."

x

As Dean threw the rest of his clothes in his bag and set aside the weapons he'd had in there, he wondered if he should empty out the trunk of the Impala as well. But for some reason that seemed to be inviting trouble and besides, he should keep some things just in case of an emergency.

"Heading out?" Sam asked, coming into the guest room.

"Yeah, just, uh… Just going through some stuff," Dean replied, zipping up his bag and turning to face his brother. There was a part of Dean that didn't want to say 'good-bye' because he knew it would be a while before he saw Sam again. And yet unlike last time, this time Dean knew his brother was alive. "Look, you know I'm bad with the whole 'good-bye' thing, so, uh… How about we just skip it?"

Sam smirked and nodded. "You got it… jerk."

Dean couldn't help smiling as he replied, "Bitch."

Knowing his brother's aversion to 'chick-flick ' moments, Sam just gave a nod and said, "Good luck, Dean."

"Thanks," Dean replied, grabbing his bag but before he headed out of the room, he held up an old notebook crammed with news clippings and notes. After a slight hesitation, he handed the notebook to Sam.

"Dean," Sam said, surprised as he stared down at the journal that had once belonged to their father.

"I'm not going to be using it, Sammy," Dean insisted. "Take it."

Sam reluctantly took the journal and after a moment, set it down on the chair in the corner and stepped forward to hug Dean.

Dean returned the hug, trying not to think of how long it could be before they saw each other again.

x

Watching Dean drive away a few hours later, Sam stood in the middle of the salvage yard, lost in thought. With Dean walking away from being a hunter, Sam knew he should gear up and head out himself but at the same time, something had been weighing on him lately. Namely the memories of Hell.

It wasn't so bad when he was awake, but when he tried to sleep, he was overwhelmed with nightmares of the tortures he'd endured in the cage with Michael and Lucifer.

Looking around the salvage yard, Sam wondered what he should do now. Being a hunter was really the only thing he knew but for some strange reason, ever since he got his soul back, hunting monsters and demons just didn't hold his interest.

Heading back inside Bobby's house, Sam found Bobby with his mother and grandfather in the kitchen.

"Dean get off okay?" Samuel asked, as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Yeah," Sam replied, simply as he helped himself to the last of the coffee. "He said he'd call when he gets to Lisa's."

"What about you, Sam?" Bobby asked, curiously. While Dean already had a normal life waiting for him, Sam didn't have that luxury, really, and it would probably be near impossible for the younger man to resume the life he'd had before Dean dragged him back into hunting.

Clearing his throat, Samuel said, "I think I'm going to head out today as well. Sam, you're welcome to join me."

But Sam still wasn't sure if he wanted to go back to hunting or not and he shook his head. "I'll pass, Samuel."

Samuel gave his grandson a smile and said, "Well, you know my number if you change your mind."

"Yeah," Sam said with a brief nod.

* * *

It was nearing 10 o'clock at night when Dean finally pulled into the driveway of Lisa's house but the lights in the living room were still on. Putting the Impala in park and turning off the engine, Dean just sat for a moment, watching Lisa through the living room window. She looked good and as she passed the window, she saw him staring.

Dean had been expecting Lisa to hesitate or something as she headed for the front door, but instead, she hurried out of the house and up to the Impala just as Dean got out.

Stopping right in front of Dean, Lisa wasn't sure which was the best way to greet him. A simple greeting? A kiss? Asking Dean if he wouldn't mind if they made out like a couple of teenagers in the Impala's spacious back seat?

But to Lisa's relief, Dean didn't make any advances and just said, "It's good to see you again, Lis. Ben still up?"

Taking a step back, Lisa replied. "He went to bed but who knows if he's actually asleep or still awake."

"Right," Dean said with a reminiscent smile. Looking towards the car, he said, "Well, I'll, uh… I'll grab my stuff. Um… We didn't talk about sleeping arrangements, so I'm not sure if—"

"Dean?" Lisa said, taking a step towards him as she felt her passion rising. "How about we don't talk about it right now?" Grabbing the lapels of Dean's jacket, she pulled him to her and into a kiss.

As Dean put his arms around Lisa, he lost himself in the kiss and when it ended, he couldn't think of anything else but getting Lisa upstairs and in to bed. As the two headed inside and up to Lisa's bedroom, Dean found that he was happy to finally be home again.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Dean thinks he's out, but now he had to deal with Ben wanting to be a hunter and a resurrected archangel with a sweet tooth and a newly discovered affection for high heels.

Chapter 9

* * *

When Ben woke up that morning he was surprised to hear Dean's voice as he started down the steps. His mom hadn't said anything about Dean coming and Ben found himself wondering just how long the demon hunter would be hanging around this time.

After a moment, though, Ben stopped and just listened when he heard his mom say his name.

x

"I'm really glad you're here, Dean," Lisa said as she finished making coffee. "Especially since Ben has been…"

"Boys will be boys," Dean replied as he finished making breakfast.

"It's more than that," Lisa countered, worry in her voice. "He's been in fights a lot lately. He's studying more and his grades are better than ever."

"Well, gotta put a stop to that," Dean said sarcastically, giving Lisa a reassuring smile.

"And he won't let me in his room anymore," Lisa went on, ignoring the interruption. "I'm worried, Dean."

Dean was pretty sure that Lisa was getting worked up over nothing but after a moment, he gave Lisa a look and said, "I'll talk to him, Lis, Okay? See if I can find out what's up."

"Thanks, Dean," Lisa said, giving him a quick kiss.

When Lisa turned away, Dean grabbed her and pulled her in for a longer kiss, broken off only when Dean heard someone clearing their throat in the kitchen doorway. Looking up to see Ben standing there, Dean turned to the table and said, "Breakfast is up, man. You hungry?"

"Yeah, sure," Ben replied as he sat down with Dean and his mom at the table. "So how long are you staying this time, Dean?" Ben wanted to know as he ate.

"I'm back, Ben," Dean assured the kid. "Really. For good."

When her son dropped his fork on his plate and left the table in a hurry, Lisa exchanged a worried look with Dean before the both of them hurried upstairs to Ben's room. When Lisa tried the door, she found it to be locked and looked at Dean.

Dean tried the door himself but stopped when he heard the sounds of rummaging around coming from inside. "Ben? Come on, man, open the door." Giving Lisa an apologetic look, Dean braced himself and threw his shoulder into the door which broke the lock.

Lisa'd had her suspicions about what her son had been up to lately but she'd never imagined what she actually found.

Weapons were scattered about the room and old books were stacked in piles by the desk. Ben had been in the process of backing things up into an old trunk when him mom and Dean burst in and he jumped up, startled.

"Benjamin Isaac Braeden," Lisa said as she stepped into the room, hoping—_praying—_that this was something—_anything_—other than what it looked like. "What the Hell _is_ all this?"

"Um…" Ben stammered as he tried to think of an answer. He looked to Dean, hoping he would help him out, but Dean's expression was shockingly stern.

"Ben," Dean said, fixing the kid with a look. "What's going on?" Dean didn't really have to ask. He knew full well what Ben was up to. And just the very idea of Ben trying to become a hunter made Dean's blood run cold. Taking a breath, Dean said, "Ben, go downstairs."

Ben didn't like the look on Dean's face and he quickly tried to apologize. "Dean, I—"

"Ben, now," Lisa said, a bit sharper than she intended. But when Ben left the room, she sank onto the bed, looking around her son's room.

Running a hand through his hair, Dean looked at Lisa. "I'm so sorry, Lis."

"Dean, unless you had something to do with all this, you have noting to apologize for," Lisa insisted as she watched Dean picking up a silver knife. "How in the world did Ben even _find_ all of this stuff?" she asked, standing and picking up an old encyclopedia of demons.

"Well, I know where he got _some_ of this stuff," Dean replied, grimly, as he held up a dagger. Catching Lisa's eye he added, "I've been looking for this for months." Pointing to another knife sitting on top of another old book, he frowned. "And those he probably nicked when the two of you were at Bobby's."

"Dean," Lisa said, her eyes pleading as she looked up at him. "Tell me you think Ben is… a weapons dealer or… in a gang… Just _please_ tell me my son's not trying to become a hunter."

"I wish I could, Lisa. I do," Dean assured her, sitting next to her on the bed.

"So what do we do now?" Lisa asked, wondering if there was even anything they _could_ do other than lock Ben in his room the rest of his life.

Dean thought for a while and one idea was starting to develop but he was pretty sure that Lisa would never go for it. "I've got one idea," he finally admitted after a while as he turned to look at his girlfriend. Seeing her hopeful look, he hated the idea even more. "But you're not going to like it."

x

Down in the kitchen, Ben just about jumped when he heard his mother's voice screaming. "Are you out of your mind?"

Ben quietly crept up the stairs in order to hear better as he heard Dean reply, "Look, if the kid really wants to do this, at least he should have someone teaching him the ropes so he's not flying off on his own!"

"I'm not having my son become a hunter!" Lisa's voice insisted. "And if you cared about Ben at all you'd be trying to talk him out of this!"

"I thought I had!" Dean shouted back. "I just want to keep the kid safe, okay?"

Ben wasn't quite sure what to make of the argument as he went back to the kitchen. Dean actually _wanted_ to train Ben as a hunter? But as Ben thought about it, he thought it might be fun—traveling around, fighting monsters… And after all, Dean had met his mom on a hunt so obviously it was a great way to meet chicks…

X

In Ben's room, Lisa glared at Dean as they wrapped up their 'fight'. She _hated_ Dean's plan and it went against all of the ground rules she'd laid out for Dean coming back. But she didn't know what else and maybe this would actually work. "There's got to be a better way, Dean," she said, quietly, listening for any sounds indicating Ben was coming back upstairs.

"Believe me, I don't like it, either," Dean assured her. "I just figure if I take some of the glamour out of hunting—"

"Dean, _nothing_ you've ever told me has _ever_ indicated that being a hunter is glamorous," Lisa replied, frowning. Heading for her son's closet, she grabbed an old duffel bag and tossed in some of Ben's clothes while Dean gathered up some of the weaponry lying around before packing up Ben's laptop computer. "Dean, you're not _really_ taking Ben on a hunt, right?"

Dean set Ben's things on the bed and pulled Lisa towards him as he put his hands around her waist. "I'll call Bobby, see if he's got anything that's probably nothing. It'll fine, Lisa. I promise."

"It better be," Lisa replied before she kissed Dean.

X

The last thing Ben expected when his mother and Dean came back in the room was Dean holding Ben's computer bag and an old duffel that looked like it was packed. "What's all this?" Ben asked, looking from his mother to Dean.

"I got a call from Bobby," Dean replied, setting the bags down. "He needs back up on dealing with a case up in Michigan. Sam's still out, so you and I are taking it."

"Wait, you… you want me to come with you?" Ben asked, looking surprised. "Do I get to shoot stuff?"

"No," Lisa and Dean replied, in unison.

"You're just learning the ropes," Dean went on. "I'll man the guns. You can do research."

"Research?" Ben repeated, feeling his enthusiasm ebb a bit. "I thought you already knew how to deal with ghosts and monsters and stuff."

"Every case is unique," Dean replied with a half-smile. "Come on," he added, grabbing Ben's stuff.

Ben gave his mother a look of 'are you sure?' and when she nodded, he gave her a hug before following Dean out to the Impala.

* * *

After hanging up with Dean, Bobby had a bad feeling about this. And just what was Dean hoping to accomplish? Ben was just a kid and to him hunting was some great adventure, not the nightmare that it was in real life.

"Bobby?" Sam said, coming into the kitchen. "What's up?"

"Oh, your brother's doing something stupid again, the idjit," Bobby grumbled. Seeing that Sam didn't understand what was going on, Bobby sighed as he started a fresh pot of coffee. "Lisa's kid wants to be a hunter," Bobby explained. "So Dean wanted to know if I knew of any cases that were probably nothing."

"Where's you send them?" Sam asked as he grabbed his jacket off of the chair where he'd tossed it the night before.

"Where're you going?" Bobby asked, frowning a bit at Sam.

"To go help Dean," Sam replied. "Maybe I should talk to Ben."

Bobby was about to stop Sam but finally sighed and grabbed his own jacket before grabbing a set of keys from the counter. Turning to Sam, he stopped when Mary came into the kitchen looking a bit puzzled. "Sam? What's going on?"

Bobby and Sam exchanged a look before Sam turned to his mother and said, "We'll tell you on the way, Mom."

* * *

Dean felt just the slightest bit pleased when he noticed that Ben looked totally bored sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala. Looking at the fuel gage, Dean sighed when he saw that they needed to get gas soon. Thankfully, Dean had enough money to make it through the next couple days and seeing a sign for a rest area and gas station, he pulled off.

Ben looked around and stretched a bit as he asked, "When's lunch?"

Dean grinned as he pulled over to the gas station and got out of the car. Looking at Ben who had gotten out as well, he pointed over by the restrooms and said, "Couple of vending machines over there if you want something."

Ben looked over at the vending machines and after a long pause, he finally dug a couple $1 dollar bills out of his pocket and headed over to grab some snacks, suddenly wishing he'd finished breakfast before leaving home. He'd thought that Dean would actually stop for lunch but as Dean finished pumping gas, Ben just opened his bottle of soda and opened up a bag of chips.

Once back on the road, Dean quickly glanced over at Ben as he ran through his mental list of questions. "So where'd you get the knives and stuff?" Dean wanted to know.

Ben looked a bit sheepish and turned to look out his window as he said, quietly, "You… your friend, Bobby." Turning to Dean, he added, "I-I just wanted to know more about what you do."

Dean sighed as he watched the road. "Look, Ben, I get it, okay? I do. But there's a lot about this job that you shouldn't be exposed to."

"When I first met you it was right before I was taken by a changeling," Ben protested. "And the last time I saw you, you were a vampire."

Dean looked sharply over at Ben. "How'd you find out about that?"

"I-I did some reading," Ben explained. "Besides, with you gone, I figured someone should keep an eye on things."

"True, that," Dean admitted. After a few minutes of silence, he asked, "So you've been studying more?"

"When Mom and I were staying with Bobby—" Ben replied. "—he told me how he got into hunting. He said that knowing what's going on—what's really out there—is the first step."

Dean just nodded, knowing that Bobby's words were true, but at the same time feeling a twisting in his gut when he thought about the older man giving Ben advice on becoming a hunter. "And the fights?"

Ben looked a little embarrassed about it but after a moment, he said, "There's this girl at school—Chloe Morgan. She likes me, but she gets teased a lot." After a long silence, Ben finally added, "When I found out her mom's a hunter, she tried to beat me up."

Dean was starting to understand why Ben wanted to be a hunter. But still, there was a lot about the job that Ben didn't know about. "Ben, if you're serious about this then we need to lay out the ground rules, alright?" Waiting until he got an affirmative from Ben, Dean started, "First off, you do anything I say, okay? I tell you to stay put, you stay. I tell you to run, you run like hellhounds are on your ass."

"I got it," Ben said, wearily.

"Hey, you want in, those are the rules," Dean replied. When Ben didn't argue, Dean went on. "Also… I don't want you into any of the guns."

"Come on, Dean!" Ben said, disappointed. "I thought you were just agreeing with Mom so she'd let me go!"

"Ben, you don't have the training and you could accidently shoot yourself, me, or an innocent bystander," Dean said, firmly.

"So when we get to where we're going, can I come with you to talk to people?" Ben wanted to know.

Dean shook his head. "Nope."

Again Ben felt a stab of disappointment. "Why not?"

Dean smirked at the question and glanced over at Ben as he replied, "'Cause you're too young to pass for an FBI agent."

"That's how you get people to talk to you?" Ben asked, looking a bit shocked. "You lie about who you are?"

"Pretty much," Dean said, moving around the slow-moving car in front of him.

Ben looked a bit put-off at the idea and frowned as something occurred to him. "Isn't it against the law to pretend to be a federal agent?"

Dean shrugged. "Truth is, Ben, a lot of what hunters do is against the law."

Ben wasn't sure of what to say about that and suddenly, hunting demons didn't seem as cool anymore.

* * *

Bobby, Mary, and Sam's trip to Michigan was mostly made in silence and while they stopped a few times to grab something to eat or to fill the gas tank, they just kept driving until the Clarkston/Davison exit of Michigan's I-75.

15 minutes late they were heading up the driveway of an old, abandoned farmhouse painted yellow.

"An abandoned house?" Mary Winchester said, frowning slightly. Looking at Sam, she said, "Dean couldn't find a motel nearby?"

"Sometimes Dean and I had to squat in abandoned or vacant homes when money got really tight," Sam explained with a shrug as he pulled into the open garage and turned the car off. "I'm sure Dean's just showing off the unglamorous side of being a hunter." Going to the front door, Sam knocked and waited until Dean opened the door and let everyone in. "Have a good trip?" Sam asked, looking around. "Where's Ben?"

"Upstairs, doing research," Dean replied, pointing to the stairs. When Sam headed upstairs, Dean looked at his mother and Bobby. "We've got a problem."

"What kind of problem?" Bobby asked as Dean grabbed a police file off the counter and handed it over.

"The case that was 'probably nothing' is actually something," Dean replied. "Three people all killed near a community college campus." Going to the refrigerator and pulling out a beer, he added, "Judging by what the witnesses are saying, we have another trickster on our hands."

"A trickster," Bobby repeated, not believing what he was hearing. Giving Dean a look, he said, "You're _sure_ Gabriel's dead, right?"

"Yeah," Dean confirmed, although as soon as he said it, he frowned slightly. "Pretty sure."

Bobby flicked his gaze to Mary before looking at Dean. "Considering that things have been kinda weird lately, even for us, you think maybe we shouldn't settle for 'pretty sure'?"

"Who's Gabriel?" Mary asked as Dean sat down at the table in the dining room.

"An archangel," Dean replied, taking a long swig of his beer. "He was masquerading as a trickster. Sam and I have tried loads of times to gank him, but we thought Lucifer had killed him for good."

"He did."

Dean, Mary, and Bobby jumped at the sound of the young woman's voice and as Dean stood, he studied the beautiful redhead standing in the kitchen. "Who are you?" Dean asked.

"Really, Dean," the girl said with a seductive smile as she approached Dean. "Don't you recognize me?"

"Gabriel?" Bobby said, his face wrinkled in confusion.

"Well, I guess it's 'Gabrielle' now," she said, looking over her new form. "Have to say, this is certainly an interesting twist."

Pursing his lips, Dean wasn't quite sure how to handle this newest wrinkle. "And how are you alive?"

Gabrielle shrugged as she sat down at the table. "God, maybe? I don't know. All I know is I suddenly came to about a year ago in the body of a Las Vegas casino host named Molly Simms."

Dean looked at his beer and sighed. "I need something stronger."


	10. Chapter 10

AUTHOR'S NOTES: It's kind of fun to write the character Gabriel so expect to see him—technically 'her'—in further chapters of this story.

CHAPTER 10

* * *

In the morning, Dean woke early and was surprised to find that he'd woken up on a rather comfortable leather sofa and there was a warm fire flickering happily in the fireplace in the living room. Getting up, he looked around and found his mother still asleep in the downstairs bedroom.

Upstairs, Dean checked on Sam and Ben who had been sharing the larger bedroom but was surprised to find Bobby already up in the guest room. "Morning," Dean muttered, softly.

"Did you even sleep?" Bobby wanted to know as Dean let out a yawn.

"Yeah," Dean replied, rubbing the back of his neck. Looking at the bed taking up most of the room, he added, "Don't remember seeing that last night."

Bobby looked slightly amused as he and Dean headed back down the stairs and into the kitchen where a coffee maker sat on the counter. "You know for an archangel," Bobby commented, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "—Gabriel doesn't seem that bad."

"Yeah, well, you weren't the one he killed more than a hundred times," Dean replied, although he was starting to warm up to the angel/trickster when he tasted some of the best coffee he'd ever had in his life. Sitting at the kitchen table, Dean sighed. "Not what I thought I'd be up to," he admitted. "Great start to not being a hunter, huh, Bobby?"

Bobby's expression grew thoughtful as he sat down across from Dean. "What's so bad about Ben wanting to be a hunter, Dean? Really. I mean, you get to help people, save lives…"

"You can do the same thing by joining the army or the Marines," Dean countered. "And I can't believe _you're_ advocating here. This is THE worst thing for a kid. And, yeah, Dad may have kept Sam and me safe by teaching us about all this stuff, but he could have left us with someone and went hunting on his own. He shouldn't have taken us with him. Bobby, all I want is for Ben to not have to always worry that the thing in his closet is going to kill him. To go to bed and not be scared of the dark." Dean slugged down more coffee and finally said, "I want Ben to have a normal life. I know it's too late for me, but Ben has a shot. He can do anything he wants to."

"And he wants to be a hunter," Bobby countered. Waiting until Dean met his eyes, Bobby sighed. "Look, I get that you don't want Ben to end up like you, Dean. I do. But the kid's apparently been thinking about this for a long time."

"And that's what really scares me," Dean admitted. "Bobby… ever since Ben was 8 I saw myself in the kid. It's like watching myself growing up all over again only _this_ time I've got a chance to make a change and keep history from repeating itself."

"Do you?" Bobby asked, wondering if Dean really believed that. "Dean, if Ben's just like you, then you know how it's going to end. You know there's no way to stop it."

Dean nodded, knowing that what Bobby was saying was true. "Maybe I can't stop it," he said, looking determined. "But I can sure as Hell throw some road blocks in the way until Ben changes his mind."

Sensing that Dean's hope was misplaced, Bobby asked, "What makes you so sure he will change his mind?"

"Cause it's either Ben changes his mind about being a hunter," Dean replied, finishing his coffee and going for a refill. "—or I literally ground the kid for the rest of his life."

XX

Upstairs, Sam was surprised when he awoke to find himself sprawled on a twin bed. Apparently Gabriel—or was it 'Gabrielle now?—at least wanted them all comfortable. Getting up and stretching, Sam looked over at the other bed where Ben was lying on his stomach looking at something on his computer. "Sleep okay?" Sam asked, looking at Ben, a bit unsure about how to talk to the kid.

"Fine," Ben replied, not looking up at Sam as he sat up. "Just wanted to look up a couple things for Dean." After a few minutes of skimming through web pages, Ben looked at Sam and asked, "Why is Dean so against me being a hunter?"

Sam was caught off guard by the question and after pulling his own laptop and setting it on the bed, he sat down and gave Ben his full attention. "Ben, our mom died when Dean was 4. I was barely 6 months old. Our dad died 6 years ago. We've buried friends, family… and all for a job that has zero perks, long hours, and almost always kills you eventually."

Ben was taken aback by the response and frowned as he asked, "Then why do it?"

Again, Sam thought of how best to answer. If he talked about his parents being hunters then Ben would likely use that information to his advantage. "Because someone has to, Ben," Sam replied, vaguely. "Dean and I never had a choice. We were raised to be hunters. Believe me, we both wish we weren't."

But Ben wasn't entirely buying it. "Why would you want a normal life when you can drive around the country fighting monsters?"

Sam laughed and replied, "I had my first real health physical when I went to college. The doctor was surprised I wasn't dead already because of my blood pressure and cholesterol. Before Dean got yanked out of Hell, you should have seen the collection of scars from being cut, stabbed, or shot. Have you ever notice Dean limping?"

Ben nodded as he remembered Dean almost hobbling around sometimes, especially in the middle of winter. "What happened?" Ben wanted to know.

"Dean got into a pretty bad scrap and ended up getting his left knee popped out of joint," Sam explained, remembering when the ghost of a girl taken over by the demon, Meg, had beaten the crap out of Dean. "It still bothers him sometimes."

"Do you have any scars?" Ben asked, cautiously. He knew the whole demon hunter thing was dangerous but the idea that Dean and Sam had permanent injuries from the job was starting to make Ben rethink the notion of following in Dean's footsteps.

Sam could tell that Ben was losing the glamorous notion of a hunter's life and sighed. "Trust me, I've got plenty of scars," he said, knowing that Ben was talking about _physical_ scars. "Not to mention bad knees from sitting for hours on end and back knots from lousy motel mattresses. But the physical stuff is nothing compared to the emotional and mental scars. I mean, Dean and I have both been in Hell. Literally. And with all we've been through… Ben, at best you'd end up like me. At worst… Dean doesn't want this for you. He wants you to have the normal life he never did."

* * *

At the Oakland Community College, Sam, Bobby, and Dean split up to try and track down the location of their trickster.

As Dean headed towards the library, he stopped when he heard a soft, feminine chuckle. Turning, he saw Gabriel sitting on a stone ledge watching him. "Pretty bold, even for you."

"Why is that?" Gabriel asked as Dean came closer. "I'm not your trickster this time," she added, crossing her arms over her chest and watching as Dean's eyes slowly traced her curves. "You know if I were in my old vessel I'd find this really awkward."

Gabriel's words seemed to bring Dean back to his senses and he asked, "So if you're not the one ganking coeds, who is?"

Gabriel frowned as she stood and adjusted her blouse. "Obviously another trickster. But I couldn't say who exactly."

Looking around, Dean noticed that more students were heading down the walkway and after looking around for a moment, he said, "I know I'm going to regret this." Looking at Gabriel, he asked, "Know a place where we can talk?"

Gabriel smiled and raised one hand, fixing Dean with look before snapping her fingers and transporting the two of them to an empty auditorium. "How's this?"

"Fine," Dean said. Looking at Gabriel and trying to keep his eyes off of her rather impressive cleavage, he asked, "Who brought you back?"

Crossing her arms again, Gabriel sighed. "I don't know." Looking herself over once again, she frowned. "Whoever it was sure had a twisted sense of…" Trailing off, she slowly closed her eyes and let out another long sigh. "Oh, crap!"

Dean was almost amused as he watched Gabriel fuming. "What?"

Gabriel shot a glare at Dean and huffed. "A trickster demigoddess named Nemesis. Her big thing is retribution." Sitting on a table on the open stage, she explained. "I'd just arrived on Earth, found my vessel and was trying to stay under Heaven's radar when she found me. She knew about my bailing and everything and offered to give me her powers if I played trickster for a while."

"So what happened?" Dean wanted to know as he leaned against a wall and crossing his arms.

"Oh," Gabriel said, rolling her eyes. "I… I tried to trick Nemesis into… Well, let's just say it's a bad idea to try and trick a trickster into killing an angel." Indicating the vessel she was currently occupying, Gabriel added, "Obviously this is her idea of payback."

Dean let out an exasperated sigh as he rubbed his face with one hand. He _really _didn't need this right now. He needed to find a way to convince Ben that being a hunter _sucked_ and then somehow convince Lisa that he hadn't been working an actual job.

He needed a vacation. A long one.

* * *

Getting back to the house later that evening bearing pizza, beer, burgers, and soda for Ben, Sam and Bobby went to do further research on Nemesis while Mary helped Dean lay out the table. "I talked to Ben earlier today," Mary said, casually.

"How'd that work out?" Dean wanted to know.

His mother gave him a smile. "He's a great kid." Her smile faded as she went on. "I told him about when I was his age… about how my parents raised me to be a hunter. I also told him that I never really had any friends, about how hard it was trying to balance a normal life with being a hunter."

Sitting at the table, Dean wasn't sure how to respond to that. "So what do you think?"

Taking a seat next to her son, Mary put her hand on Dean's. "Ben told me that you never really told him about what it was like growing up in the life. That's what he needs to know and he needs to hear it from you."

Dean nodded and stood, heading upstairs to the room Sam and Ben were sharing. Knocking on the open door, Dean tried to look casual as he said, "Can I come in?"

"Sure," Ben replied, closing down his computer and looking at Dean who sat down on Sam's bed. After a short silence, Ben said, "You've got the coolest mom. She was telling me about when she was a kid and how her father trained her to be a hunter." But seeing the look on Dean's face, he added, "Dean, why didn't you ever tell me about when you were hunting?"

Clearing his throat, Dean replied, "At first, I couldn't talk about it. You know, I'd… I'd just lost Sammy. Every time I thought about hunting, I kept thinking of how I'd lost my brother. Same reason I never went into the Impala after I got to your house."

"Dean, when I said I wanted to be like you… hunt things… I didn't know how hard it was," Ben admitted. "And not just the research. But the stuff you've been through… I don't know if I could handle that."

Listening for anyone coming up the steps, Dean gave Ben a smile. "I'll be honest, Ben. Sometimes I can't handle things. At least not alone. If it hadn't been for you and your mom I don't know what I would have had to hold on to."

Ben seemed to be considering something and after a while he said, "If you ever want to talk about anything… I mean, you always say I can tell you anything." Catching Dean's look, Ben shrugged, slightly embarrassed. "It goes both ways, Dean."

"Thanks, man," Dean replied, honestly. "Hey, you hungry?"

"Starving," Ben replied, getting up quickly and following Dean downstairs.


End file.
